


Kings Union

by Cazio, TheJotunPoleDancer



Series: The Kings Series [1]
Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Past Sexual Abuse, Post-Kings Rising, letter writing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:14:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 22
Words: 191,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21722062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cazio/pseuds/Cazio, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheJotunPoleDancer/pseuds/TheJotunPoleDancer
Summary: Beginning a year after the finale of Kings Rising, Damen and Laurent face the difficult task of uniting two kingdoms, creating a new capital, and planning the royal marriage that will define a new age. They quickly find that the past will not soon be forgotten, and the future is riddled with thorns of its own.Roleplay format, updates every Sunday.
Relationships: Damen/Laurent (Captive Prince), Lazar/Pallas (Captive Prince)
Series: The Kings Series [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1739758
Comments: 36
Kudos: 114





	1. Part I - Groundbreaking

**Author's Note:**

> hi everyone! this work is the archive of our Damen/Laurent RP – that means it’s written in roleplay format. we’ve been roleplaying together for almost seven years, and given the small but loyal size of the Captive Prince fandom, we thought it would be fun to post this RP as a weekly series for anyone interested in reading along, as there aren’t a ton of Lamen fics out there! 
> 
> that being said, this is an archive of something we do for fun. things like characterizations, plotlines, etc are fluid and will be molded and shaped through our RP, and while we will try to edit major mistakes we see before posting, consider this “raw writing.” there will be OC’s and probably some book things forgotten in the course of it all. occasionally when one character is out of commission (ie. knocked out, captive, otherwise outside of the story) the other person will pick up other characters to continue the story until Damen/Laurent returns. 
> 
> tags/warning will be edited as they arise, but just a heads up for everyone, we usually have a lot of angst (read: cazio is involved) but plenty of fluff too. and we can promise that Laurent and Damen will survive all of the turmoil, try as we might to destroy their lives in other ways. We intend not to do anything worse than anything that’s happened already in the books, but no guarantees. 
> 
> We are not looking for constructive criticism on our writing. We’re just here to have some fun and share the Lamen love.
> 
> Laurent = thejotunpoledancer  
> Damen = cazio
> 
> Typically our RPs last quite a long time (ie, years), so join us on a grand adventure! :) 

A year ago, Damen never would have entertained the idea of Marlas becoming the capitol of the newly forged empire. It was the Council who came up with the idea, though Damen was smart enough to realize that the Council would never have come up with the idea without a little help. Laurent hadn’t even feigned surprise when it was suggested, confirming Damen’s immediate suspicion.

He’d been against the idea, at first. Ios was home, the place he had always imagined himself as King. He had been thoroughly convinced his people would think the same, only to find they were for the idea. Except for Nikandros, of course, who was still leery about anything that Laurent touched. A few traditionalists had sided with him at first, but within six months even they heeded to the desire of the people.

Just as easily as Laurent won any battle he ever had entered (except one, though Damen only teased him about it when he was in the best of moods), the stage was set for the kingdoms to be united in Marlas. Traders throughout the region rejoiced, all vying to be chosen to supply the needs required to outfit Marlas for two royal households.

And a few weeks ago, on the anniversary of Kastor’s death and the Regent's defeat, so began the groundbreaking ceremonies for the new capitol. Entertainment ranged from traditional Akielon events to spectacles of Vere. Feasting, drinking, and celebration echoed into every crevice of the newly combined kingdoms, at great expense and great reward. Vask and Patras bestowed mountains of gifts, and the warmth of peace was a strong one. For now. It was always for now, but Damen felt it would be a long time before any serious threat arose.

The final day of celebration fell into yet another night of feasting and spectacle, but Damen wasn’t as joyous as he had been the nights before. This was the last night he would spend with Laurent for at least three months, and more likely six. Tomorrow they would part from each other to prepare their respective palaces for the move. The wait would be worth it when they were finally reunited, but Damen loathed the thought of three months apart when just a few hours without Laurent’s attention made his chest tighten.

Though he hadn’t mentioned it, he also hated the idea of returning home and seeing Cosmas, the child of his brother. He would be toddling around the palace soon, under strict guard and without his mother, who was confined to her house prison for the rest of her life.

But for now, he had a belly pleasantly full of wine, enough to keep such thoughts on the edges of his mind. That, and the dull pain in his neck where he had tweaked it in the previous day’s hunt.

As stories of other hunts filled the air, Damen absently brought Laurent’s knuckles to his lips, a habit he did often now, as though to remind himself this was real. He kept the kiss short—he always did—and returned their hands to where they rested intertwined between their two thrones.

“—most certainly did not,” a Veretian noble was protesting.

“I heard the squeals for at least five minutes more,” another laughed. “So unless you stared at it for five minutes before plunging your spear, it was not an instantaneous death by any means!”

The table erupted in laughter. Damen managed a smile, but his mind was elsewhere. Many had already left the hall, retiring early to prepare for the travels tomorrow. Damen wanted to follow, but doing so this early would be an affront to their hosts.

So he filled his cup of wine another time, and reclined deeper in his throne, eyes dancing between the two storytellers and trying his best not to stare too often at Laurent. A task he failed at, miserably, and even more so today.

\---

The union of two kingdoms had proved to be a task both tiring and tireless, and that was well /before/ the exertion of the celebrations. Yes, they /had/ once been two kingdoms, but Laurent would be smart to remember that it had been easier to split that one kingdom into two than it would ever be to put it back together. They were on a track that seemed positive, and forward-moving, but it was always important to prepare for the crumbling of a cracked foundation.

And it would crack. The weight of this union on history would be enormous, and Laurent would never expect it to be upheld through time without issue. Enough traveling around between kingdoms, and anyone could pick up on the numbers that weren’t supportive of the union. To be absolutely fair, Laurent had not even been on board until Damen, and that had taken much time and ever more convincing. And he had the pleasure of having him skin-to-skin, which he would never allow the masses to have.

Well, he wouldn’t allow it /now/.

Laurent’s usual comfortable sitting position was as lazily fallen into as ever with council meeting after council meeting taking up his days, only to be followed by planning, long travel, and then /more/ council meetings. It only made sense that his uncle’s— now /his/ — council would want to stay in their homes in Arles, and those of Ios would want to stay there, but even the trip to Marlas was hectic among all this planning.

It was no surprise his uncle had left Vere in disarray to anyone, and Laurent was certain he’d kept Damen up all hours listening to him mapping out the seven steps ahead of everyone he had to be to rule in Vere. He’d not even started the nine steps ahead he would have to be to assist with rule in Akielos.

He’d stopped drinking wine weeks ago to keep his head from spinning.

But he never showed it. Even now, when he’d been kept from the hunt, when he’d been kept from /winning/ the hunt, he looked as pleasant as ever, kept that way by a smartly doting Damen, who if nothing else, was keeping him awake as the night drew on. Laurent would not take a single touch or glance for granted, however. He knew tomorrow, they would both part from Marlas to their separated capitals. The work would never be over, but Laurent supposed it might be easier when they had joined, when they would /share/ the responsibility. Together.

“I /long/ for an instantaneous death,” Laurent murmured casually to Damen, not at all loud enough for their hosts to hear. A private moment in their very public lives. A glint of humor where Laurent might have been lacking it for the past few days. Only Damen would have known it, so it only seemed right that he got the taste of Laurent’s actual humor, as opposed to what he put up for the others.

Damen was just as distracted as he was, though. He was so very challenged at hiding it.

Laurent gave his hand a little squeeze in response to the kiss.

“I’ve known a few to squeal at the very visage of yourself, Councilor,” Laurent did say aloud after his aside to Damen, once more inserting himself in the conversation so as not to be seen as rude or dismissive. No more than usual, anyway.

He glanced over, catching Damen’s eye, for the umpteenth time during this little festivity. He would let him know just how inappropriate that was in their chambers tonight, how the last thing he needed was to be distracted by Damen’s hedonistic thoughts…though he knew Damen was undoubtedly more worried about their parting than any of that right now.

Depending on just how straight Damen was thinking right now. He’d always been more susceptible to wine. Or showing it, anyway.

Laurent leant forward in his chair to grab the pitcher of water before them and poured a glass for Damen, handing it over pointedly as he sat back comfortably in his throne.

\---

Laurent was in a decent enough mood, but Damen knew him too well to be fooled. He could see the weight Laurent carried in his shoulders, the way his mind turned behind his eyes, still thinking of the various plays he had to make upon return to Vere. Damen was more optimistic about things, but that was in his nature. He still at trouble remembering that the Veretian courts were so full of two-headed snakes. Akielos had its own troubles, especially after Damen’s decree to end slavery by the following year. Outrage was an understatement, but that was why he’d chosen the timeline. Slave trade was a large part of the economy, culture, and tradition that couldn’t just be upended overnight, as much as he wanted it to be. As much as it should be. The unity of the kingdom could only be shaken so much.

Damen smiled fondly at the joke, giving a little snort in agreement. He was utterly besotted with the King of Vere—Laurent could have made a joke about something as boring as the stagnant air of an empty training arena and he would grin like a fool.

Damen was not worried for Laurent’s life. He was protected by loyal men, not to mention Laurent could decimate anyone in battle perfectly well on his own. He could also do more than enough to win any verbal draws, a skill Damen had yet to master when it came to Venetians. Akielons, however, he could outmaneuver, but that was an entirely different game.

He worried about Laurent working himself to death. He never showed exhaustion until it was too late, until he was barely able to stand from the weight of it. And he was new to kingship, as much as he was prepared for it, and it was a new schedule with new duties. Damen certainly felt the weight of it all, but he had been primed from birth. Laurent for less than a decade.

He took the cup of water and sipped distractedly as conversation continued. He hadn’t missed the gesture, but wine was not an issue tonight. He senses were a bit fogged, but he wasn’t inebriated. Damen would not lose his last night with Laurent to drink.

“Exalted, was the horse you rode today Veretian or Akielon? I have never seen a beast of such quality, magnificent!”

Damen smiled, and decided to make up his relative silence by telling the tale of the grey gelding he’d been gifted by the court of Aegina, bred from the finest stud in Akielos with a Patran mare who was undefeated in the races there. He quite liked the gelding for hunting and riding, but he was still unsure about battle, too unpredictable for that yet.

Two more at the table made their exit once his story was done, and Damen noticed only Veretians were left, all of the Akielon court had gone off to bed with their slaves. He hoped that wasn’t a slight, but he was too focused on tomorrow to care much.

“Unfortunate he was gelded,” one of the Veretians said with a shake of his head. “What a fine stud he would make.”

“His sire still lives,” Damen informed him. “Inquire to Slyov—he still resides in Aegina. It will cost you, but I can assure you that he is worth any price."

Even the candles were starting to putter out at the entryway to the hall. Damen was quite done socializing, but he would not offend his company, especially that of Vere.

\---

Councilor Jeurre had an affinity for Damen that Laurent had yet to miss, always going out of his way to applaud the King of Akielos as if he didn’t owe his life to the now King I’d Vere, as if Laurent should not be the he was exalting. He’d been allowed to keep his position, after all, as Laurent had held to an honoured code. It had cost him a lot of time with careful plays of security, but the old man had yet to cause him too much grief /just/ yet. He would cross a threshold however if he kept pumping air into Damen’s head. His ego didn’t /need/ the bolstering.

Mathe was clearly not as taken by the King of Akielos, just one man indicative of one facet of his kingdom. Damianos was still a subversive entity in Vere, and Akielos was still, to many, a barbaric kingdom, one that would poison Vere from the inside when the union came about. Mathe had been vehemently against the banning of slavery, one of the first slights he blamed the Akielon King for, resented Laurent for, but Laurent kept him around. It was always nice to have a harmless insight into his opposers. Mathe could do nothing if he tried. He couldn’t even /look/ to be enjoying the company of the Akielons.

Laurent liked to keep things /balanced/.

Before he could begin to analyse yet another man’s current state, posture, or mindset, Jeurre - good old Jeurre - finally decided to /act/ on his ogling and began to /praise/ Damen even more. Laurent’s lips curled into something like a smile to show his support of the praise...and perhaps that smiled turned /slightly/ more genuine as Damen began to respond.

Damen gave life to the waning gathering as he spoke, so proud, /gleaming/ despite his exhaustion. Damianos of Akielon would make a /wonderful/ Veretian if he could find the strength to participate in every gathering like this. Warm, friendly, beautiful...

Arles would be cold without him.

These people, as kind as they were, did not deserve Damen’s time any longer. Damen may be unwilling to call the evening in fear of disrespecting their hosts, but one day, he would learn there was a way around /everything/. One day, he would learn to appeal to the Veretian senses.

To more than just Laurent’s.

“If you’ll excuse us,” Laurent finally spoke up in the first lull he found, readjusting his grip on Damen’s hand and gracefully rising from his seat. He took the water glass from his love and placed it down in the table, unburdening him for a swift escape. “His royal highness of Akielos and I will be parted tomorrow. I would so hate to lose him without an evening to ourselves.”

It was the truth, which Laurent told more often than he ever received credit for, but it was the tone he delivered it in that made it his play. A suggestive tone, followed by an even more evocative gaze.

“Well, do not feel you must stay on our behest,” Councilor Cylan waved, his wrinkled hands shaking as he dismissed any cause for worry of disrespect. Laurent wondered how /he/ had stayed awake so long. “There will be much celebration to come. Your majesties.” He bowed his head, followed by the rest of those at the table.

“Lucien will lead you to your rooms,” Cylan went on, gesturing to a young man, dressed in the Veretian styling of a pet, draped in silver and rubies. He’d been standing in the corner for these long hours, with the fortitude and stamina of a slave. Laurent had noticed this a lot recently - a sudden drop in slaves with the coming law and an increasing number of pets, Veretians treading lightly in a grey area, as they were so apt to do.

Laurent should have put Damen in rubies...

“We will find our way,” Laurent dismissed again, not at all worried of any assumption of contempt, it seemed. “Perhaps our chambers will be easier for his majesty to find than a boar in the brush.”

\---

Damen had been fully prepared to spend another hour at the table, talking and drinking until none of them could keep their eyelids from drifting. He was tired, his muscles sore from participation in events each day. Laurent could have taken his place, of course, but it was a planned move on their part. Damen had to reassure his people that he was still fit to be King, show the Venetians his prowess in physicality, and Laurent needed time to do what he did best: planning ahead.

His father had raised him to be a leader, not a brute. Damen was adept at mathematics, strategy, and intellectual pursuits to a certain extent, but it was hard to feel equal to a mind like Laurent’s. It still felt like a privilege to be in his private company discussing plans and—

Damen flushed at Laurent’s insinuating tone, his Akielon blood still taken aback by the brazen near-vulgarity that Veretians used in everyday speech. He had been in Ios so long that he had largely forgotten about it. Another reason they needed to be united in their kingdoms, so respective cultures were not neglected. Though Nikandros would be glad to forget Vere altogether, and he would not be alone in Akielos with that thought.

“Sleep well,” Damen said in parting after clearing his throat. He watched as Laurent’s gaze lingered on Lucien and glanced at the man himself, noting the way the grey of silver and red of rubies complimented his complexion. Damen had also noticed the increase in pets, and he did not like it.

He snorted at the comment about the boar, not realizing that Laurent had been referring to him. His eyes were still on Lucien, who glanced uncomfortably between the two kings and Cylan, still unsure if he should go. Damen's mind was fatigued, finally allowed to rest in Laurent’s private company only when they had exited the hall.

“I hope you’ve no plans to study strategy tonight,” Damen said, his voice no longer concealing his exhaustion. “If I hear one more word about trading or hunting or horses I may not rise tomorrow.” He lifted Laurent’s hand to his lips again, kissing the back of it, lingering for a moment this time. His eyes closed briefly, thinking about how he wouldn’t have this tomorrow night. His chest ached already, and Laurent was right beside him.

His moment of angst was small, and then Damen was walking again, staying as close to Laurent as he could.

“Lucien seemed to please you,” he commented absently, pretending to eye a tapestry. He couldn’t help it. For as much as they had known the day of their parting was coming, they hadn’t spoken much of it, and Damen hadn’t thought about who would be in Laurent’s more intimate company. “You won’t…Will you have a pet attend you in Vere?” The question came out as blundering as it felt on his tongue.

A thick pause.

“Someone has to unlace those maddening clothes of yours."


	2. Part I: Last Night (15.12.19)

Damen’s exhaustion showed in an absent kiss to his hand, and Laurent couldn’t help but to take the moment of privacy they had to place his hand on Damen’s cheek, to brush his thumb over his lips. Laurent would be lying if he said he’d not been thinking about the absence they would soon face from each other, but he had always been something of a liar, hadn’t he?

He dropped his hand when Damen brought up the pet, and his pale eyes rolled into the back of his head as he started down the hallway. As if /he/ were the one to worry about.

“Contrary to what you may believe of me, I am perfectly capable of untying my own laces,” Laurent told Damen, lifting his wrist and working the lace quite quickly from his sleeve, letting it fall open to reveal the glint of the slave’s band he still wore. There was no one here to see him undone, and what did he care if they did? “And perhaps I planned on adopting your scandalous garments in Vere,” Laurent added, and an untrained eye would not have realized that Laurent was stalling.

Laurent had not missed but they had not once spoken of their departure from one another, from Marlas, but that was by design. There were appearances that would have to be upheld back in his home kingdom, people still to please, and culture still to respect. It did not fit with Laurent’s or Damen’s new ideology. It would be a process.

“And Lucien did not please me as much as his ornamentation did,” Laurent corrected Damen before boldly, and with a lilt of humour adding, “I never thought to put you in rubies.”

“Speaking of pets,” Laurent jumped on before Damen could respond, and it was obvious /this/ had been a thought Laurent had been sitting on until the right moment.

They’d not even made it to their chambers yet, and there Laurent was, planning.

“I need you to take my uncle’s boy, Korus, to Ios with you.” Laurent had taken on his courtier’s voice, had not yet shed it from the long day of entertaining council. “Where I wanted to help him, I fear my presence troubles him more greatly than anything else. He is causing trouble, and I feel he will benefit from Akielon society more than Veretian.”

This might not have been a conversation Damen /wanted/ to have tonight, but Laurent imagined he would give in quite quickly if only to move on _from_ the conversation.

* * *

The gentle touch to his face brought some life back to him—Damen’s mind worked much better now that he no longer had to suffer through the celebrations that had already taxed him quite enough over the past few weeks. The little caress of Laurent’s thumb over his lip was a salve to his weary body, and he couldn’t fight back the warm smile that crept to his face, nor could he fight lifting a brow as Laurent unlaced his sleeve.

“You did look very good in them,” Damen said helpfully, as though Laurent hadn’t been fully aware of that already. He waited though, because he knew that something was keeping them. Laurent just hadn’t said what yet. Damen was getting better and better at reading him, even if he still couldn’t predict him well.

His jaw fell slack at Laurent’s reasoning for staring at Lucien, and his cheeks flushed before he could stop it. Laurent was not a man for jewelry, but the thought of—

Damen quickly shut his mouth, not at all expecting what came next. Korus? The little boy was hardly twelve, and had been nothing but trouble since the Regent’s defeat. Of course, Damen had a soft spot for the boy (more so because Laurent did) but he couldn’t help but feel that Laurent simply didn’t want to be put as guardian. Damen didn’t either! He already had one child in Akielos that was going to take all of his will not to dislike in some way. His fear was that Jokaste would raise him to believe he had a right to the throne, as royal blood did run in him.

“And you think my presence, in a country he hardly knows, will do him better?” he protested, unable to help it. “Laurent, he is Veretian. And everyone still thinks him a pet—Akielos would adopt Vere’s sidestep overnight if I were to bring him to Ios. He belongs in Vere, troublemaker or not.”

He sighed. “At least let us have this conversation lying down.” The effect of wine was wearing off, and his neck was starting to throb again. Fragile thing.

He took Laurent’s hand once more and finished their walk to the bedchamber in comfortable silence. Of course, the discussion wasn’t over, and Damen knew as he closed the door that he was probably going to lose.

“In Akielos, a boy his age would be six years into training. Korus shies from carving knives.” He unpinned his cloak, then set about the quick work of removing his ceremonial wear and replaced it with a simple skirt for sleeping—one he was fairly certain would be removed if only so they could be as close as possible. He never expected to bed Laurent, even now that they had been a year together as lovers.

“The other boys will be more trouble than any court of Vere."

* * *

Damen always had a way of surprising Laurent. Sometimes not always for the better.

Laurent left the conversation until they’d made it to their chambers, and though he had made a show of being unable to untie his own laces, he had no intention of doing so tonight. So, he held his arms out and waited for Damen to finish attending to himself so he could, in turn, attend Laurent.

Besides, even if lying together was a far thought from Laurent’s mind, he never minded a show of his husband-to-be’s body.

Even if he did feel a tinge of regret every time he saw Damen’s back.

“I thought we were going to wait until we were lying down,” Laurent pointed out, golden brow arched, but he was much too tired to keep it that way.

“He’s the pet of a man hung on the palace gates,” Laurent reminded Damen, flippantly regarding his uncle. “He feels he has no place in Vere, and who am I to tell him otherwise?” And then, more honestly. “He’s taken a liking to Mathe and Mathe to him. I’d rather not go about beheading half of my council in my first year of proper rule, but please don’t think that will stop me as it’s needed.”

He turned his wrists over to bring attention back to Damen, all but his one sleeve still laced quite tightly.

“Damianos,” Laurent drew out, expectantly, both of his laces and to Damen‘s acquiescence of his thoughts about the boy. “You were /so/ good with Nicaise. And perhaps the women watching that child of your brother's would like the help.”

* * *

Damen wordlessly took the order, his fingers moving with practiced ease now as he undid each lace in turn. He liked the ritual of it, though sometimes it was absolutely infuriating when he was trying to take Laurent’s clothes off for other reasons. The glinting of their gold cuffs was a gentle reminder of what they had come through together, and Damen preferred when they were both visible, though he knew Laurent too well to ever think he’d leave it exposed all the time in court.

Just as he warmed at the way Laurent said his royal name, he flinched at mention of his brother. Kastor did not feel like a brother to him—he hadn’t since the fight in the stairwell. His movements at Laurent’s sleeve continued regardless, even if Damen’s face was now shadowed with his phantom pain. His brother was dead, taken from him with all of his closest friends, Jokaste, and the slaves who had served him with nothing but earnest devotion.

“Cosmas,” he said quietly, though he knew Laurent knew his name. He thought of Nicaise, both alive in his bedclothes, standing in the hall and as a malformed head rolling in the dirt. Both memories he would rather have left forgotten.

He didn’t want to talk about it anymore, and especially didn’t want to discuss Cosmas.

“Fine,” he said as he pulled the last lace undone from Laurent’s sleeve. He pulled the garment off in a practiced motion and set it on Laurent’s trunk for the staff to retrieve in the morning. To pack away, to return to Vere along with Laurent himself.

And now he would be returning to Akielos with Kastor, caring for two boys—one who didn’t want to be there, another who didn’t know yet that he didn’t want to be there.

“Anything else?” Damen asked irritably. He didn’t want to argue, but he was losing Laurent and now had a child to see to when he needed to be solidifying his kingdom. He knew Laurent had his reasons—he always did—but Damen wished he would have picked /any/ other time to bring this up.

He sighed, his dark hair brushing his closed eyes as he dipped his head forward—much to the chagrin of his neck.

“You know I would never say no to you without good reason, and I won’t say no to you now. But I do wish you would not have laid it as a trap for me, Laurent. You don’t need to play me into your hand as you do them. I am already yours."

* * *

He’d hurt Damen’s feelings, it was painfully obvious. Damen did not have the same interest or proclivity to hide his emotions as Laurent, and even so, Laurent knew him so well. He’d never have been _able_ to hide his hurt from Laurent.

“Cosmas,” Laurent corrected himself, as if that would correct all he’d said.

He’d never seen a problem in talking about Kastor. No one _ever_ stopped talking about Auguste. Though perhaps that was of his own doing.

More than hurt, Damen was _cross_ with him, which was honestly the emotion Laurent had seen the most of all out of Damen. It was the easiest to detect, even this year in.

“I thought it a non-issue, an inconvenience at most,” Laurent defended. “It was not a trap, it was just timing.”

But…that wasn’t entirely true.

What was true that it was habit, the way Laurent moved about and manipulated people. It came from the way he was raised, from having plot after plot thrown at him from both his own family and the majority of those around him. It came from the attempts on his life, from having to work his way up into his position somehow, from being gifted the man that had killed his brother—

“I’m Veretian,” Laurent shrugged, reaching out to touch Damen’s jaw as he had out in the hallway. “Please don’t take it personally, love. I _know_ I don't need to manipulate you with plots and words. You’ve always been _so_ obedient." He closed the space between him to kiss Damen’s lips, to take a full moment with him - a genuine act of apology. He may have sounded flippant, but he could hope Damen could see, at this point, that he truly was doing his best. He didn’t act as he did without reason.

“I can’t have him in my house,” he murmured to Damen, their foreheads rested together, fingers still brushing at Damen’s jaw, thumb at his lips to keep him silence as Laurent bared the truth. “For his sake, he needs to be far away. He has a better chance in Akielos tending with the women than he has in Vere tending to the men. You know that."

* * *

It was never just timing with Laurent, and Damen knew that better than anyone. Everything was premeditated, thought of long before it first occurred to anyone else playing his games. Damen knew he couldn’t help himself, but…well, it would have been nice to know about Korus a few days prior, if only to find someone else for him to travel with. The little boy still saw Damen as the Regent’s killer (which was truth), but also spat ‘Princekiller’ at him whenever Laurent was out of earshot. Many did, but not many who lived with him.

A smile did creep to his face when Laurent called him obedient, because it was painfully true. His eyes fluttered closed when Laurent tipped his head up, and he met the kiss with all of the tenderness he could muster—which was quite a lot. He hadn’t had a kiss since that morning in bed, a few loving ones before they both had to dress and be off. It made him ache to think that tomorrow’s kisses would be the last for months.

His lashes fluttered when the kiss broke and Laurent expertly kept him quiet with a thumb over his lips. He gazed into those blue eyes he had been watching all evening, but now they were as close as he had wanted them to be all the times before.

“So, it is settled. Korus comes to Akielos,” he said. His own hand lifted to push back Laurent’s perfect blond hair, soft against his fingers. “Nothing will happen to him under my watch,” he promised. Then smiled. “Well, nothing too bad.”

He lifted his head to kiss Laurent’s forehead, arms winding around him to pull him in close. Holding Laurent was one of his favorite ways to spend time with him when they were alone…well, one of his favorites, anyway.

“I’ve asked Jord to keep an eye on you—not that he will be able to see what you hide from him,” Damen murmured against Laurent’s temple. “I know you are more than capable. But I would like to return to you with you having slept at least once or twice.”

Again, they hadn’t spoken of their separation much at all. It felt like bad luck. But Damen didn’t want to part without at least saying that.

* * *

Laurent seemed perfectly pleased to have gotten his way, though he had not expected it to go any other way. Laurent simply knew what was best, and Damen was always so good about understanding. And when he didn't, Laurent could say Damen usually was in the right. Usually. He was right when he said he rarely told Laurent no.

Damen made him a better person. Laurent would never deny that.

“You truly believe Jord can make me do _anything_?” Laurent chuckled, falling into the closeness even though they still had at least _fifteen_ minutes of lacing to untie. His boots, his pants. Truly, in these brief days he had with Damen, he should consider the Akielon style of dress. Not that he thought Damen attending his was ever a waste of time. He just wished to be in _bed_ by now.

So, he cleared his throat and motioned to his laced up waistband, gave Damen a little kick with the toe of his boot, expectant.

“I will sleep,” he promised Damen, “You need not worry about that.”

Damen had a thousand other things to worry about. Cosmas, for one. Laurent never asked about the child, knew he should, but just...hadn’t. There never seemed to be a good time. He didn’t know who was raising the boy, if Damen was a part of it—and Jokaste. That was a whole different issue Damen had to deal with. And then there was the slave issue. Laurent wondered if any of his people ever held against him what he had been in Vere.

They didn’t have enough private time anymore.

“Don’t let Nikandros dissuade you of our union while I am away,” Laurent told Damen then, breaking right through the ice and falling into the conversation they’d put off for too long. “And don’t fall into bed with any blond that crosses your path, Damianos.”

“And be kind to that boy,” Laurent added touching Damen again because, yes, maybe Laurent knew he responded more positively when he was being touched. “He is a handful, admittedly. And he will give you a difficult time, but I know you are a gentle, caring soul who will have no problem with a little brat who would rather see you killed than anything else in this world.” He’d dealt with Laurent, after all.

* * *

  
Damen pulled away a little too quickly, momentarily thinking he had invaded Laurent’s space, pressured him with touch. Though he had…mostly positive memories of the first time he had touched Laurent in the bath, his body had not forgotten what was done to him. He blinked at the lacing at Laurent’s waist, then remembered where he was and what he was doing and started unlacing. The waist laces were easier to undo, but still took time.

He briefly looked at Laurent when he spoke again, because Laurent never said anything without reason. It was no secret that Nikandros didn’t like Laurent, but he had slowly (very slowly) started to warm to him when he realized that Damen was completely and utterly in love with the King of Vere. Nikandros was more concerned for Damen, for ensuring Laurent wasn’t using him as a pawn. Had they met any other way, Damen might have been inclined to believe it if convinced thoroughly enough.

“Nikandros has given up trying, I think,” Damen assured him, turning his head to press a fond kiss to Laurent’s jaw. “And no one will be in my bed. My sleep will be so restless without you that even if someone tried, I would throw them out.” Though they were both surrounded by attractive people daily, Damen could easily say he had never had his head turned since knowing Laurent’s feelings for him.

He chuffed at Laurent’s next words, as pleased as a dog that had been thrown scraps. “I will be kind,” he assured. Then paused. “I will be _fair_.” Better.

With a simple motion he hooked an arm around Laurent’s waist and lifted him, setting him easily on the bed (Akielon styling, as Marlas had not been totally turned yet). Then he moved to his knees and began unlacing Laurent’s boots.

“You are not truly worried, are you?” Damen asked, looking up at him. “About me straying? I am so enamored with you that it drives Nikandros mad each time he sees me doting. I hope you know how much…how much I care for you, how much you mean to me. I may be King, but my heart is always yours, Laurent. I will write you each day—I will find the time—if you wish it of me."

* * *

Damianos of Akielos was the _only_ man who would ever be allowed to move Laurent about as he did, using his strength and musculature to just move the King of Vere as he wished. Anyone else who even thought to lay their hands on Laurent in such a way would be…flogged. Mercilessly and ceaselessly. He’d made that pretty clear in the past, he believed.

But Damen had a way of making it endearing, of making Laurent’s heart flutter when he moved him about like that. He’d never admit it aloud, of course, but it did leave him feeling quite warm every time.

Especially when it ended with Damen on his knees.

Of course, Laurent did not actually worry about Damen straying. He knew he had the Akielon enamoured - mind, soul, and body.

His gaze had significantly warmed around Damen, and it was clear from just the tilt of Laurent’s head, the small turn to his lips that he never suspected Damen to stray. Especially not to any Akielon. Fair hair and eyes were rare here, after all. Laurent could think of only one other with such a complexion. And he would hardly worry about that.

“Darling,” Laurent said on the context of letters, voice honeyed yet sharp, raising his leg out of Damen’s careful hands so as to lift his lover's head with his calf. “I _expect_ it of you.” He let his leg slip away, lifting out of his boot this time when he was able.

“I think you are out of practice in undressing me,” Laurent murmured as he stepped out of his second boot. “Perhaps I will _ask_ you to stray if it means I will not have to wait a full half hour before I am free of my clothing when we are next together."

* * *

Damen vowed to be true to his word. Even if he only wrote a few sentences on a scrap of paper each day, every messenger from Ios would be weighed down with a sack of letters for Laurent with each journey. He dared anyone to steal one—Laurent hated few things more than someone else receiving Damen’s affection (or any sort of intimate attention, for that matter).

“I know what I’m doing,” Damen chuckled, moving up to Laurent’s pants next. He liked to keep those fine undershirts for last, because as soon as that was removed, so was Damen’s ability to think. Usually. Tonight, even the sight of Laurent’s perfect body before him might not be enough to fully distract him from the impending loss of it tomorrow.

He sped up his pace in helping Laurent shed his pants, then sat back on his heels like a dog waiting for its next command. He wasn’t sure where the night was headed, and never wanted Laurent to feel pressure by him. Damianos was easy: he just wanted to be with Laurent. Yes, making love was almost always on his mind, but he just as much enjoyed simply lying next to his lover, smoothing his hands over fair skin and sharing in the soft laughter and quiet affection only he was given. But Laurent was relaxing more and more—Damen hoped someday he wouldn’t feel the need to hide himself for anyone.

“Shall I fetch your nightshirt?” Damen asked innocently in Akielon, angering his neck by tilting up his head to look in Laurent’s eyes. A smile came to his lips, and he switched to Veretian: “Or am I fucking you tonight?”

They were both tired. Damen could feel it tugging behind his eyes, but he posed the question anyway, because in a mere day or two he would be aching for the chance, and he knew it. Though they could also wait until morning, though Laurent seemed to enjoy having at least one member of their staff walk in on them. He swore it was planned, and even expecting it he still flushed red to his chest, wide-eyed and cheeks burning while Laurent spoke like they were simply sleeping oddly.

They had yet to speak about their marriage ceremonies, and Damen didn’t want to think about the Veretian tradition of consummation. So, for now, he decided just to ask and see where the night was to head.

* * *

  
Laurent was far too tired to fuck, which was a shame, as he very much would have liked to take the time to explore Damen and to _be_ explored by Damen. Laurent almost longed for the days when he was the one in power, when Damen’s only responsibility was him and him only. At least then, even if Laurent was tired, they could still have some time to know each other more intimately at the end of the day.

“I am surprised you have a word for nightshirt,” Laurent responded in his own accented Akielon. They spoke Veretian more often now than perhaps Damen should, but it was the language their love had been found on. Laurent would also argue it was much more of a romantic language as well, but that was not an argument for this evening. “Is that even something you Akielons wear?” Laurent had only ever seen Damen dressed as he was now or not at all when it came time to go to bed. He’d never seen Damen in a _nightshirt_ , and he was perfectly fine with that.

“I’m afraid I will have to return to my frigid ways tonight,” Laurent lamented for Damen’s sake, and it seemed he had _finally_ found himself as he could be with Damen - happy, relaxed. Golden, like his husband-to-be. “I think the very act of opening my thighs would be what put me over the edge of sleep.”

But even as he said it, he removed his tunic, placing it down with the rest of his clothing Damen had set aside for the servants to pack. He turned back to Damen, quick to catch his gaze, never tiring of how his love reacted to seeing him like this.

“You’re overdressed,” Laurent pointed out next, pushing himself up on his arms to move towards the head of the bed. He relaxed himself there, propped himself up on his arm so he could see Damen in full. As much as he adored the way Damen looked at him, he would never tire of looking at Damen. He’d yet to warm up to that new scar on Damen’s belly, left by his final run-in with Kastor. Damen was a vision of a man, something Laurent would never be, but would now always have. Whenever he wanted and as long as he wanted.

Oh, he should have put Damen in rubies just once.

“Take it off now, and you can fuck me in the morning."

* * *

“Women wear them,” Damen said cheerfully in Akielon. “Hence the feminine sound to it. Nightshirt." He would actually very much like to see Laurent in an Akielon nightshirt—they usually had a cloth collar and the rest of the fabric was sheer with a bit of shine in the moonlight. Laurent would glow in one, though he probably wasn’t going to be in women’s clothing again anytime soon. Damen could dream, and it would be a good daydream while Laurent was across the kingdom.

Laurent’s shirt was off, and Damen couldn’t help but stare. He truly had never seen someone so beautiful. Laurent’s body was so different in clothing. Without it, he was far from the boyish look he carried with all that lace. He was well muscled, his shoulders growing broader and his body filling out his frame much in the same way Damen remembered Auguste. Laurent was still growing into himself, into becoming a king. Damianos also did not feel like he was fully prepared for his duty, and he had four years on Laurent.

He gripped the scant fastening on his skirt, and with a gentle tug the fabric and string fell away, revealing himself completely to Laurent. He crawled forward into their bed, pleasantly warm in the summer evening. Autumn would be quick in coming though, he knew. He could smell it on the breeze that winter would not be easy either. But the evening was a perfect one, and beyond the walls of their chambers it was clear celebrations were still in full swing among the rest of Marlas.

“It is still strange to me when you stare,” Damen chuckled, moving beside Laurent and propping his head on his his hand, fingers nestled in his dark curls. He reached out with his free hand, curling his finger under Laurent’s chin, thumbing there once before dropping his hand again.

A weight settled in his chest he hadn’t been anticipating, and it rose up his throat and pulled at the corners of his smile.

He would miss Laurent more than he had ever missed anything before. He would be tortured by the dangling future of seeing him again, and he wasn’t sure what the next months would bring. So much work was to be done.

“What do you want?” Damen asked, slipping into Akielon again without realizing it. His thoughts were on home. “What can I give?"

* * *

The moment they were together as no one else could ever have him, Laurent changed. Damen was there in front of him, bared and breathtaking, all hard lines and olive skin, soft-lit and golden, and _Laurent’s_. It instantly softened his entire demeanour as he finally slipped into himself, finally responded to the soft touches and the softer voices. It was a visible crumbling of layers and layers of thick walls Laurent found the energy to rebuild every morning. He reached his hand out in front of him to rest it on Damen’s chest, just to touch.

“I always tell you what I want when I want it,” Laurent told Damen in returned Akielon, eyes off of Damen’s body now and up into his gaze. “What makes you believe I am holding back now?” It wasn’t as if he had days more to squeeze what he wanted out of Damen. This was their final night together before they would return to their capitals, return to be immersed solely in their duties. Correspondences would undoubtedly be riddled with treaties, councils, all the responsibilities that came with kingship.

“Though I do wish you would give me time to think before you unleash such weighted questions on me,” Laurent continued in Akielon, taking the last of his practice as he could get it. He smiled warmly at Damen then, solidifying his comment as a joke.

“I want you to come back to Arles with me.”

Damen had not been since they departed for the border, when this whole terrifying spiral began. Laurent still couldn’t quite comprehend how he had made it here, but it was precisely where he’d wanted to be. It had been his first victory without years and months of planning. It was still so strange.

Even when Laurent had announced as king, he’d done it here, in Marlas, as a planned move to later make it the capital, to solidify its legitimacy to the Veretians. It had been widely controversial, but what did Laurent ever do that could be considered widely accepted?

Like _planning_ now, as he said he wouldn’t.

“You’ve still a presence to make there, Damianos.” It was a soft chastising, and yes, Laurent was sure he was touching Damen was he issued it. He’d slipped into Veretian halfway through, unthinking. “A _new_ presence. One that I, admittedly, can’t orchestrate for you, as much as I loathe to admit it.”

And as expected, with that admission, Laurent went silent. It was his usual response to oversharing, when his mouth went off without his brain.

He pursed his lips, eyes down for a moment to the hollow of Damen’s throat before quietly adding, “You used to be so skilled in shutting me up.”

* * *

Of course, Laurent’s desire was the only thing Damen could not give him. He was not sure what he would feel when he returned to Arles, if it would be a place that haunted him or a place he made new. very few good things had happened there. And if Nikandros were to ever hear about what happened with Ancel in the gardens, Damen was quite sure Nikandros would risk death if it meant getting to punish Laurent. Damen did not like to dwell on what had happened in the gardens that day, nor Laurent’s part in it, even if the memory was…somewhat positive now.

“Only when I want to,” Damen said softly in Veretian, leaning forward to kiss his forehead. He wished he could follow Laurent back to Vere and assert himself as King there. But a part of him feared it. Before Laurent, he would have been ignorant of all of the back dealing and games. He would have entered confident and left just as confident, and likely believing he had begun courting Laurent, and perhaps…perhaps friends with Auguste, had things happened differently. Now though, he was aware of all of that, and still had not honed his diplomatic abilities in the slightest. Being in Akielos, he would likely slip further away from ever mastering it.

“As much as I wish I could come, I do not think it would be wise, much less possible.” Damen gazed over Laurent’s shoulder, distracted by the thought. “You need to return as sole king. Assert yourself there, then bring back your slave once your grip is firm.”

He met Laurent’s eyes again, his self-consciousness clear. His enslavement was still shameful, even though everyone knew he would never become a slave again. He hadn’t thought he would be a slave in the first place.

“Arles will not be a place I win favor,” Damen expanded. “I will be Princekiller or Slave. They think I’ve poisoned you into caring for me. Twisted you as the Regent did and I—“

It angered him just to think of it. As though he could manipulate Laurent, King of Vere! As though he would ever desire to!

“It is better I am in Ios until we unite here in Marlas,” he finished, swallowing thickly. “For the Throne, and for you—for your reputation.” It was a delicate balance they had to maintain, and stepping foot in Arles would rupture what careful foundation Laurent had built.

* * *

Laurent knew it wasn’t possible which was the only reason he’d never ordered it. He’d known well in his life that just because he _wanted_ something, it did not mean he could _always_ get it. Some of his desires were not meant to be had, were not meant to be manipulated into fruition. He only wanted Damen to _know_ that his presence was desired, as Laurent understood he did not always make it clear.

Laurent did not like a world where _anyone_ likened Damen to his uncle, and that thought read on his face with a brief wrinkling of his nose.

“They do not think of you in any way as they did of him in the end,” Laurent assured Damen, fingers curling at his prominent collarbones. Laurent remembered briefly the gold paint there that he loathed so much, that he put on a _prince_. He understood that it was largely his doing when it came to Damen’s shame in Arles. Princekiller had been a legend, a ground for hatred, but slave? That was Laurent’s doing. He’d never seen this future then, of course, had for once, been leagues behind of an endgame. It would take time to undo what he’d done, time to change the thoughts of Vere.

“They would never give you that power over a Veretian.”

Not many people sympathised for Laurent in this decision, widely chalked it up to his own doing. Many thought that, after the admission in his trial, Laurent was trying to destroy Vere all on his own in recompense for what his uncle had done to him. they gave Damen very little credit for Laurent’s actions, only that he’d taken away their right to a more just and worthy king.

“You are welcome back on Vere whenever it is you please,” Laurent told Damen. “The King is quite fond of you as I understand and...would admittedly rejoice in the opportunity to show you Arles as it should have been shown to you in the first place.”

But Damen would be a different man by then, changed in a way even Laurent could not yet predict. Not yet.

“At the very least, you will have the right to speak up for yourself this time. Not that that ever stopped you before...”

* * *

They should have spoken about all of this earlier. Damen had tried to push everything about their parting out of his mind, and now he had so much he wanted to speak about. He wanted to know that Laurent felt safe returning there, but was unsure that offering Akielon troops to escort him would be at all helpful. He had Jord, he had the rest of his guard. He had survived a much more hostile Vere all on his own for many years.

“The King is fond of me?” Damen purred, smoothing back Laurent’s hair. “I might inquire about him, and I do hope that my tour will be private. I have heard his beauty is unmatched in all of the kingdoms.” He smiled fondly, but it was twinged with sadness. How he would have loved to meet Laurent under different circumstances, to court him properly, to not tarnish his reputation so harshly as he had just by breathing.

“Best not to let me speak to any of them,” he chuckled. “I may collapse all of your careful work in a matter of a few words.”

He moved his arm around Laurent, pulling him in closer. Damen’s lips found his jaw, feathering loving kisses there, down to his throat. He tried his best not to feel desperate against Laurent’s fair skin, but he simply was not sure how he would manage after tomorrow.

He pulled away, moving up to his elbow to gaze down at his perfect lover. He carded his fingers through gold spun hair, wishing the sun did not have to rise tomorrow.

“Tell me true: do you feel safe returning?” Damen asked. “I will send all the men I have to. I will send Nikandros to defend you personally. He would hate every moment, but would give his life for you if I asked it of him. If you have any doubts, tell me. I will not send you to the lion’s den alone."

* * *

He tipped his jaw up for his lover’s kisses, closed his eyes so as to focus on the fluttering feeling of heat and adoration. Damen’s hair smelled of the fire that had cooked the feast’s boar, his lips were warm like the mulled wine they’d shared. Laurent would not seek out intimacy in Arles, and he would hold to this as he could until they were met again here in Marlas.

Laurent shifted with Damen, lying on his back as Damen propped himself up, making sure they stayed close as they could in any position they moved into. His fingers found Damen’s jaw again, a ghostly touch of pale, fine-boned fingers.

The touch was not indulgence alone.

“I will be safer in Vere now than I have been since my uncle saw himself in right for the throne,” Laurent told Damen, not a straight answer, but one he found sufficient. “I have faced a many threat on my life, but those were made by a cunning man who had studied me since childhood.” He did not let that admission carry the weight it deserved. “Any Vere brazen enough to make an attempt will need years more of planning to catch up to my years of evading.”

“And you are taking the only one brazen enough to make an unskilled attempt with you.”

The boy.

“And what of your people, love?” Laurent asked, switching to Akielon as the topic called for it. His hand had not yet fallen. “Will you be safe without my protection? Or will you be brought on a ship in a month’s time back to me?”

Of course, that wouldn’t be the case. For right now, no one was yet eyeing to usurp the throne to Akielon. Laurent did not see that being a problem for years.

* * *

Damen was glad for the touch as he thought of home. Well, home as it was for now. Ios was so different with Laurent, his care and understanding in the aftermath of everything. Damen had yet to face it alone for any considerable amount of time. He saw no threat of assassination with no heir, and there was no one with enough power or persuasion to challenge the throne anyway. His fight would be within himself.

“Cosmas frightens me,” he admitted quietly, the lump in his throat thickening. “I will love him, I will raise him, but he is not my son. And one day when he is old enough to understand, he will hate me for what I have done.”

It would be Kastor’s eyes in a smaller body, full of loathing. The same loathing Kastor had carried and hidden so well. And Damen knew that even expecting that day, he would not be prepared for it. Just thinking of Kastor made his eyes burn because Damen still saw two people: the treasonous King Kastor whom Laurent had killed, and the loving brother who had raised him to be the man he was. The latter Kastor always won out, and always hurt.

“But I’m not worried of home.”

He thumbed at Laurent’s chest, thoughts on his palace.

“Will you kiss me?” he asked, gaze still distant. “I can’t seem to stop thinking of things that cause me pain, and I will have more than enough of that tomorrow."

* * *

Cosmas. Damen had spoken of him again without a bit of prodding from Laurent, which was for the best. He’d known speaking of his absence, of Ios, of what had happened to Damen would bring the child into thought, but Laurent thought he would have to do a lot more work to get any admission out of Damen.

He was so honest, so fair.

Laurent couldn’t see him pained like that, even if this conversation had to happen. So he did as Damen asked. He tended to his king as his king would tend to him, and he brought Damen down for a soft kiss, fingers splayed over his cheek to keep him focused and there. Laurent would gladly kiss all that pain away throughout the entire night if he needed to.

And he just might need to.

“So you are raising him as your blood,” Laurent murmured against Damen’s lips, solidifying his suspicions that _this_ would be something to start planning for.

* * *

Damen fell into the kiss, his body relaxing slightly into it, though he was fighting to remain focused. His neck ached when his head was no longer resting against his hand, but he was so thankful for the taste of Laurent against his mouth. Laurent’s fingers were comforting against his cheek, and for a moment he was at peace—

And abruptly thrown from it.

It was as if a door slammed in his chest, cutting him off from the warmth there. It was /painful/, as sharp and unexpected as the first lash when he had been whipped. He pulled sharply away without realizing it.

“No,” he said, his Akielon sharp and authoritarian as though speaking to a soldier. Damen blinked, mouth falling open in quick remorse, but no words came out. He couldn’t pick what language, what words. It was as if his heart and mind were being squeezed to the point of rupture.

There was grief—Kastor’s betrayal, his death—and something close to hurt, though he knew Laurent had not meant it as an insult at all.

“He is in the royal household,” he finally said in uncharacteristically poor Veretian. “With no father. No mother to show him the world. What would you have me do? He is innocent of Kas—of those crimes. I will not punish a child for the mistakes of his parents.”

* * *

Laurent did not shy away from the outburst. In fact, he held himself quite calmly in the spot Damen had left him, eyes wide, but otherwise showing no indication of his brief hammering heart. Laurent did not fear Damen, never had to worry about being struck or injured, but anyone would have started at such harsh and sudden movement.

Damen had a telling, honest face. Every emotion he felt was on display, and Laurent stepped in the moment he saw it clear and transparent as his own husband-to-be: grief.

Damen still mourned what he’d lost. He still suffered the absence of his family, of the future he’d seen for himself while his father still lived. He saw Kastor still as his brother more than anything else, and though Laurent understood the loss of a brother, he would never understand Damen’s sympathies for Kastor. Of course, Auguste had never betrayed him as Kastor had Damen. In Vere, Kastor’s body would have been hung on display as a warning.

Damen was a good man.

And Laurent was trying to be better.

“Damen,” Laurent said with soft authority. He shushed him, handled Damen so he would lie back in the bed, tried his best to be calm, to be soothing. He fell into attending Damen, to giving him what he needed, and soon enough, Laurent was comfortably positioned lying atop Damen, one hand sandwiched between his shoulder and the bed, hooked around, his head tucked under Damen’s neck. Laurent lay there for a moment to calm him.

And when there was a breath of an opening, Laurent offered:

“He could be raised in Vere.”


	3. Part I: Last Morning

Grief was a predator. Damen hadn’t expected to be hit by it, much less overcome. Perhaps it was because he was already exhausted from the weeks of festivities, or because he had surrendered himself completely to a night that was supposed to be only good. But they were kings with two kingdoms to unite, and Damen realized it had been foolish to think they could ignore that on their last night here. 

He was full of tension as Laurent moved him, almost resisting but never doing so. He hadn’t meant to startle Laurent, but could not bring himself to apologize. He kept thinking of Cosmas, his round belly and shrieking laughter, the big eyes that were his father’s. Many wanted the boy dead or cast out, but Damen couldn’t do that to an innocent child. In other circumstances he would have been a shining uncle for the boy, and Kastor a loyal father. 

A soft sound escaped him when Laurent lay on top of him, and the warmth of touch was needed. Damen turned his head, his neck pain momentarily subdued where he lay on the pillow, and tucked Laurent’s face closer to him. His arms linked around his love in an almost protective motion—his silent apology. 

Laurent’s words made him flinch slightly, but no quick movements this time. 

“Then I would be just like my brother,” Damen said. “Sending my blood to Vere, away from his family. Away from his mother.” 

He sighed. “Not to mention he would return skilled in your ways, and I will not have you face him for me. I can teach him to respect Akielon tradition, to know the world as I do. That way I will at least know what I am facing when he turns on me."

He tightened his hold on Laurent for a moment, keeping him close. 

“But I do appreciate the offer, my love. As I cherish every day with you and every hour we have left here.” He smiled weakly. “Though I will say I had different thoughts in mind for where our conversations would venture."

* * *

Damen was wise - far more so than he was often given credit for. Laurent had not seen going to Vere as a punishment, per se, but Damen had every right to believe it was. Laurent would not argue that. 

And yes, perhaps Laurent had been forming a plan, something that would have taken /years/ to come to fruition, but he had to realise this was not his decision to make. Where he’d wanted to ask ‘was he not family?’, he knew that truly, he had no right to make decisions about this child. Not until Damen asked.

And Damen had not asked.

He’d not had to. Damen had a plan, full of foresight, and Laurent kissed his collarbone softly in an admiration he wouldn’t voice. 

Cosmas would stay here, then. And perhaps he would find Veretian family in Korus.

“What would you have had me speak about?” Laurent asked, looking up at Damen as he could through light lashes, unwilling to lift his golden head from Damen’s chest. He trailed his hand down the length of Damen’s arm, over muscle and fine hair, lazy but deliberate, until Laurent’s fingers caught the gold band at his wrist. He turned his hand over it, slotted his fingers between Damen’s with a final slide and held there.

* * *

Damen was too preoccupied with thoughts of raising his brother’s child to notice anything that may have been amiss in Laurent’s response. The kiss to his collarbone returned him to the moment, and Damen ran his palm up and down the length of Laurent’s spine. Cosmas was his greatest worry, though he knew he should be focused on other things. There was a way, perhaps, to raise his nephew in a way that wouldn’t invite betrayal, but he wasn’t sure how. 

He smiled as Laurent touched him, chest once more filling with deep affection. At one point he had thought he loved Jokaste, but now he knew how foolish that sentiment had been. He may have loved her, but she did not return it in practice. Laurent had shown him how love could grow from a simple spark to roaring flame. 

His thumb moved along the side of Laurent’s palm as he thought. “Well, I suppose I imagined you waxing on about how greatly you’ll miss me, crafting plans on how we’ll convince our respective councils to allow us on lengthy hunting trips at the border.” He paused, a smirk coming to his lips. “Though I suppose I also thought we may not speak at all.”

A quick nuzzle showed he had no intention of changing the mood. Damen was quite content like this, wrapped up in the King of Vere. 

“I have tried to push it from my mind so much I don’t even know what route you’re taking,” Damen said quietly, squeezing Laurent’s hand. “I suppose that it was childish of me to think I could somehow avoid it. I’ll admit I haven’t thought much about what it will be like without you. I suppose Ios will feel lonelier than it ever has, but I’ve been lonely before."

* * *

As Damen had been lonely before, so had Laurent. This would not be his first time returning to Vere from Marlas having lost a half of himself. He would love to say it would not be as permanent as the last, but there was no telling in this world. At least, he hoped his visitations to Damen after tomorrow were of a more corporeal manner than those he still had with Auguste.

They had been apart before this, yes, but this would be the longest foreseen time apart than they’d had in this last year. Months. Months of preparation and ceremony that they could not participate in together. There was no telling what manner of man Damen might be when they returned here to Marlas. The man Laurent knew now might not be the same man that he consummated a marriage with. Responsibility and time could always change a person, especially one with as much to deal with as they would. 

It was just something to anticipate.

“I will stop in Fortaine,” Laurent informed Damen, ticking off his list of worries as he could. “Travel through Chasteigne, up into Barbin, a trip to Chastillon, and then I will be in Arles.” It was a longer journey than Laurent wanted to admit to, but Damen knew the road. It was why they had times this as they did, so no one was stuck during the winter months on the harsh trails. 

Laurent yawned, tucked his head into Damen’s neck to hide the slip of his body.

Damen’s neck was tight.

Laurent slipped his fingers from Damen’s hand to knead at the tight tendons in his neck and shoulder, focusing himself on that for a moment while he tried to clear his mind of the travel before him.

And then he pressed a kiss there, followed by another.

Damen would be lonely, it was true, but perhaps there was some solace in knowing they would both be lonely /together/.

“The council will adore a break from me from time to time.” Laurent’s voice had gone softer, quieter, but he shook it off. He was not yet ready to call this night to an end. “They won’t need much convincing to send me off to the border.”

* * *

Damen mapped the journey in his head, frowning. He would much rather be on the road with Laurent, even if it meant posing as Lamen yet another time. Travel brought out an adventurous side in both of them, and it had been some time since they had been able to do that together. Even the trip out to Marlas had been full of preparation—little time to sneak off to spend time with each other. 

He jerked reflexively when Laurent’s fingers worked at the tightness in his neck. A little grunt escaped him, but he didn’t want Laurent to stop. The kisses just made everything that much better, even as he heard the way Laurent’s voice was drifting off. He needed sleep. 

“I’ll plan something to meet you,” Damen murmured. He lifted a hand to card through Laurent’s hair, to soothe him. “But not in winter unless you must. Please.” Last winter had been spent in Ios, where it was still rather warm. He hated to think what winter in Arles would be like. 

“You should sleep,” Damen murmured, hand smoothing up and down Laurent’s back. “You have a long journey tomorrow."

He shifted, carefully moving Laurent onto his side for a more comfortable sleep. Damen gave his arm for Laurent to use as a pillow, his other curling around him to pull him flush to his chest. 

“Sleep,” he murmured in Akielon. And then in Veretian: “I will be here when you wake."

* * *

Laurent slept soundly there, right against Damen, his defences down, his body completely open and exposed, not one thought or plot in his mind that needed to be acted on then and there. It was an absolute show of trust, unabashed and deserved. He breathed softly into Damen’s neck, curled in and precisely where he should be. He’d mourn the fact that he slept in the few hours they had left, but it was a necessity. They still had so much more to do.

The morning seemed to not take long to greet them, to bring the inevitable even closer. 

Laurent stirred first, which was the usual matter of affairs between them. His eyes blinked open and took in the morning light streaming in through the gauze curtains of their chambers. Laurent could hear the quiet clop of hooves, the sloshing of water from servants below, beginning the day and preparing for the travel of the kings. 

They still had a few hours.

He turned in Damen’s arms, having at some point rolled in his sleep so his back was to Damen, his body turned towards the door of the chambers, as he was always want to do. Laurent always had a way of planning for an attack, even if one was not anticipated to come. 

With a short, sweet kiss to Damen’s jaw, Laurent pushed up and rose from the bed, padded across the stone floor towards the baths adjoined in their own private suite. 

Laurent would not have a fine bath like this in a few weeks, and though he would never admit it, there was no other bath like this beyond those weeks. The Akielon use of aqueducts to warm their water was something quite clever, and always managed more soothing than that of the springs in Vere.

His face was flushed within three minutes of being close to the steam that had not yet risen and drifted out the windows that lined the ceiling of the room. 

He could have stayed in bed with Damen, and perhaps he should have, but it facilitated in the absence of Laurent took it upon himself to...take control of it. 

He wished his mind would quiet down and allow him to enjoy this. 

* * *

Damen slept dreamlessly, his only potential worry was sleeping right beside him, pressed to his chest. The warm summer night meant they did not need sheets, and a soft breeze kissed their skin every so often through the night. A perfect summer night, but one that was too short. He was dimly aware when Laurent started to move, murmuring softly when he was kissed, but he didn’t fully wake. 

Gradually his mind began to clue in that Laurent was not coming back to bed, and compiled with the sunlight and the sounds of dawn, Damen began to stir. For a moment he was upset, thinking the worst: that Laurent had vanished without a goodbye, much like the morning after their first night in bed together. But Damen quickly dashed that thought: things were much different now. 

“Laurent,” he groaned loudly, as he had when his father tried to wake him as a young boy. When that didn’t immediately produce his golden King, Damen lifted his head, his disheveled curls a nest above him. 

And he dropped back to bed, annoyed at the morning itself. 

After a few more moments of resting his eyes, Damen groaned again, this time more determined as he crawled from bed. He staggered to his feet, arms lifted over his head to stretch, a yawn following close behind. The morning sun warmed his bare body, a promise of a hot day ahead. 

“Laurent,” he grumbled, still bleary eyes as he made his way to the baths. “Must you bathe now? Surely I did not smell too horrible for you to leave me."

* * *

Damen was awake.

Like all other things Akielon, Damen found a way to /wake/ in a beastly manner. Where Laurent slipped out of bed, accepting the morning for what it was, Damen /trudged/ into it, fully prepared to fight the sun if he needed to.

Laurent loved it of him.

In the tub, Laurent lazily turned his lulled-back head when he heard Damen pad into the bath chambers, not exactly difficult to track. His hair was /wrecked/, though as Laurent had learned about such curls, it was nothing a bit of water wouldn’t fix. Even more beguiling than that were his dark lashes, weighing down his eyelids with the sleep he still wanted. 

Laurent, as much as he wanted to, could not stare for long, lest he get used to seeing Damen in the morning, disheveled and prepossessing, and long to see it even more. 

More than he already /did/ want that.

“I was trying,” Laurent started, turning his head back into a more relaxed position, “To ease the bandage off.” He did not mind being honest about that, especially when the heat could cover the blush on his cheeks. Damen brought the truth out of him when he was like this, still in the trusting embrace of their closeness. “But I forget how /direct/ you can be.”

It wasn’t a complaint. 

* * *

Damen didn’t like to bathe in the mornings unless he’d found a way to get particularly sweaty before getting out of bed. Right now he was only warm from the steam rising from the water. Laurent, like the incessant songbirds of Vere, was already perched in the bath, cheeks rosy and hair sticking dark to his neck. Getting clean, when they ought to be getting dirty. 

“You’ve never eased a bandage off in your life,” Damen grumbled, glad he didn’t have any clothing to fumble with as he began to wade in unceremoniously. The water was hot—Laurent seemed to like to fry his fair skin in it. Damen had gotten used to it. He wondered if it would be something he would have to get used to again in a few months. 

“We have hours yet,” Damen complained further, sinking up to his nose. The heat was both stirring and lulling as he crossed to Laurent, finally setting beside him and tipping his head back. The water was good for his neck—still stubbornly tense from the day before. “You could have waited another hour before this.”

Mornings irritated him when he had no training to attend or soldiers to order about. Especially when his morning should have included waking with Laurent in his arms. 

“Last Akielon bath for awhile,” he murmured, beginning to piece things together. His head was lolling slightly, catching himself from falling back to sleep in the warm water. “Warm enough?"

* * *

Laurent watched Damen through his lashes, amused at his unwillingness to be awake, to be civil to the day. He was boyish like this, which was a very strange way to describe Damen, Laurent knew well. All muscle and size, Damen was hardly a /boy/, but when he got to dragging his feet, to complaining about Laurent - something he knew he couldn’t control - he was adorably petulant. 

The water lapped up around Laurent as Damen displaced it, but the moment he was settled, Laurent did some moving of his own, to take Damen’s hand under the water. He took in a deep breath of steam, and though it wasn’t silenced, his mind had quieted for the moment. 

It only helped with Damen spoke.

“Last Akielon bath for a while,” Laurent confirmed, giving Damen that little insight that, yes, he had understood Laurent’s actions this morning. He was getting to know him well. That still frightened Laurent to an extent, but it had not yet proved a problem in their new lives. He prayed it never did. “It’s plenty warm, thank you.”

He thumbed at the back of Damen’s palm, and for a moment, he just /breathed/.

The steam made the air thick, and Laurent could feel the warmth in his lungs. It would be a hot day of travel, he knew, especially done up in his usual attire, but they would be to Fortaine in no time. A large leg of their trip would be in the dark. He could afford this warmth now.

“How is your neck?” Laurent asked, eyes still closed, still unmoving aside from when he had taken Damen’s hand. “You never told me what you did to it.” 

* * *

Damen hummed appreciatively when Laurent took his hand, giving it a squeeze. People of both countries seemed shocked whenever they touched each other in public, as though both of their claims at Laurent’s trial were false. Many were still convinced they had never fucked, which was something Damen took pride in. He had won the heart of the most difficult suitor in all four kingdoms—genuinely. Some thought it was just a political ploy, and Damen let them think it. 

Sleep dizzied him as he sat there, his thoughts moving to something between a daydream and reality. 

The question got a lift of his brow, but his eyes stayed close. “Who said there’s aynthing the matter with my neck?” Damen asked, but he knew Laurent had felt it last night with his little massage. He cleared his throat. 

“The boar hooked left, my horse followed, I did not,” he explained. “Of course, I didn’t fall, but I did do something to my neck in the process. Doesn’t hurt, it’s just sore.”

The warm water was helping. A morning soak would also keep him pliant in the saddle as they ventured home. Each step would be difficult for him, each step would be one further away from Laurent. 

“Would you like to try your hand at wrestling once more before you go?” Damen teased. “Or is there an Akielon delicacy you’re craving before departure? Besides the one sitting beside you, of course."

* * *

Laurent waited for the answer, even as Damen tried to dance around it. Damen could hide /nothing/ from Laurent. It was not a skill he had yet learned.

“Perhaps you could learn more about hunting from your horse,” Laurent murmured, perhaps still /slightly/ jealous he’d not been able to participate in the hunt. He could have captured that victory easily enough, but at the time, he’d just come out with two victories from the previous days. It was Damen’s turn.

And he’d been injured merely riding his horse.

Laurent /did/ peek open his eyes open at Damen over that self-supplied compliment, brow quirked. 

He did look so lovely lying there...

Where any other day, he would have rolled his eyes and made a comment about all the other delicacies Akielon had to offer, Laurent couldn’t make himself do that right now. Seeing Damen there, relaxed, content and blithe despite the impending departure, Laurent just...fell in love all over again. He’d take Damen over anything else Akielon had to offer.

Laurent leaned over and kissed the corner of Damen’s mouth, unable to help himself. 

“I suppose,” he said quietly as he pulled away, though he did not give indication that he’d be falling back into his previous stance. “I could give Nikandros a break from training me. Though I think he likes throwing me in the dirt...”

But Laurent’s interest in Akielon rearing was not his top priority right now.

“Damen,” he said softly, in a tone surely Damen had caught onto, hand dripping water as he brought it up to touch his lover’s jaw where he had pressed his lips, trying to garner his sleepy attention.

* * *

“Hm?” Damen was losing track of time, wading in and out of a light sleep. Otherwise he would have vehemently defended his abilities in securing that boar, his horse uninjured. And Laurent couldn’t make any comments about his riding, Damen’s horsemanship was hard to beat. Especially with the new gelding he now had. 

The kiss wasn’t enough to rouse him, though Damen did smile. He loved a kiss from Laurent, even half asleep. Nikandros wandered into his mind for some reason, and he knew he was supposed to have a connection to Nikandros, but he couldn’t recall why. Something about fighting. Something about—

“Laurent,” Damen replied drowsily. He sat there a moment long until Laurent’s tone seeped into him, and warm water dripped from Laurent’s fingers onto his lips. He knew that tone, he knew.

Damen’s eyes flicked open, blinking himself back awake. He just stared, unsure whether or not to address the look in Laurent’s eyes or to keep quiet and hope Laurent just acted on it anyway. But his body was very certain of where he wanted this to go, and Damen’s cheeks were ruddy in a moment. 

“Good morning,” he said, stupidly.

He was probably the most romantic King who had ever lived.

* * *

Oh, Laurent was going to /miss/ this idiot.

“Good morning,” he replied to Damen’s ridiculous response, feeling just as absurd for thinking /that/ was what either of them wanted to hear right now.

But Damen just laid there, stupidly, waiting for Laurent to act. The times they’d actually coupled could be counted on two hands, so to be perfectly fair, Damen had not yet had the time to understand Laurent in /these/ moments. He didn’t quite get that Laurent was /asking/ for this, nowhere near as boldly as he had mentioned it last night.

“Kiss me,” Laurent ordered softly in Veretian, because the moment he /ever/ got like this, his brain went into overdrive in a way he wished he didn’t. The kissing would quiet it all down, would give him a distraction. Not just from what he thought he might want at this moment, but an additional distraction to the thoughts of having to leave. Such a distraction wouldn’t be a bad thing right now.

He just wanted to be with Damen right now, couldn’t help himself but to call all of his Akielon’s attention to himself. 

* * *

Usually he could read lovers very well. His entire life, he had prided himself in reading body language, in reading gazes. He could usually tell when Laurent wanted to be with him, but his want and acting upon it were two different things. Only rarely was Damen completely sure what Laurent wanted in bed, and while he had an idea this morning (and Laurent had told him this would happen last night), he didn’t want to ruin anything about their time together today. 

Damen immediately leaned in, capturing Laurent’s lips with his own. He pulled Laurent over to him, confident in at least that. His hands moved over that pale body, trying to memorize it before it was lost to him. He gently coaxed Laurent’s mouth open. Kissing, he was well practiced in. He knew what Laurent liked and what he didn’t, and when he was unsure. They had made momentous progress since the beginning. 

One hand eventually moved to cradle Laurent’s head, his fingers nestling into his fair hair. Damen's tongue pressed past Laurent’s lips, easing him into this. Into them. 

His other hand moved lower, easing down the curve of his spine. 

“We should move to the bed,” Damen murmured between kisses. “More comfortable."

* * *

“I’m comfortable here,” Laurent said against Damen’s lips, eyes open and looking into his love’s while his mind did backflips, not yet fully taken with the idea of all of this.

He knew he wanted Damen, but Laurent never knew at what capacity at any given time. He wanted to be all-consumed by Damen, wanted to be part of the light and the love he exuded, but behind that desire, three new walls of defence had sprouted inside of him, walls Laurent wished he could drop, but they had to be felled by someone else - by Damen.

He could never do it alone.

Laurent smoothed his hands over Damen’s chest, rested them there for another round of kissing when the urge struck him. Damen had initiated and, now that the door was open, Laurent was at least comfortable enough to carry on with that. Kissing was normal for them, usually as far as the night - or morning - took them. 

He climbed into Damen‘s lap with no other purpose than to just be /closer/. He kissed him like he was about to lose him, just as he kissed him like they had all the time in the world. He parted his lips, let Damen in and, in turn, he pressed his tongue to Damen’s when time allowed, continuing the kiss languid and continuously. 

His mind was quieting. 

* * *

Laurent wasn’t ready. Damen could see it in his eyes. Often, he never became ready. It was a strange thing that Damen could not understand, but he respected it. Laurent was surrounded by erotic tastes at all times in Arles, and the Veretian’s colorful language made plenty of innuendos where bodies did not. Coupling never seemed to interest him—they only rarely made love even though he knew he had Laurent’s whole heart. 

As Damen kissed him, he only focused on releasing the tension in Laurent’s body, not on what it might lead to. He tasted the desperation and responded with his own, deepening kisses and softening them when it seemed like it might be too much. 

Laurent was in his lap, and most lovers would already be vying for more, but Damen knew better. He knew they were far, far away from that, and he knew there was a good chance he would not have it. He wasn’t even sure it was a good idea. 

“Laurent,” he slurred against his mouth, hand moving up to frame his lover’s face. He turned his head, lips feathering down Laurent’s neck. He nibbled there, testing the waters. He could feel Laurent’s heartbeat—a feat in itself considering Damen’s was now hammering in his chest. 

He pulled away gently, pressing a few parting kisses to Laurent’s shoulder. 

“Do you want this?” he asked quietly. It was pretty obvious that Damen was very very much wanting this. “I can feel your uncertainty, and I want you to know we don’t have to. Just because…just because today is today, we don’t have to make love, even if I want you. You know that, yes?"

* * *

Laurent tilted his head back to give Damen access to his throat. His fingers curled into Damen’s chest, and where he would have loved to wrap his arms around Damen, curl finger and nail into his back, it was something Laurent simply did not do. For obvious reasons. 

And Laurent.../did/ know what Damen was saying. He did. He knew he didn’t /have/ to do this, even if there was a voice in his perpetually loud head that said he very much did. He /had/ to. For what if he didn’t? Damen loved all things about him, but Damen had his desires as well. He did not want Damen to forget he meant everything to Laurent, did not want Damen to forget that Laurent would give him all he had, did not want Damen to forget him—

Laurent pulled away for a moment, suddenly a little dizzy, but he chalked it up to the steam and nothing more. He was aware of just how warm he was, of how thick the air was, of how much of his skin touched Damen’s, how close they were, how little space he had—

Laurent took a deep breath, and then another, his forehead pressed against Damen’s, his hands braced on Damen’s shoulders. This was not how he wanted to be seen. This was /not/ how he would be seen.

He was fine.

He was /fine/.

And his breathing slowed to normal, his hold on Damen’s shoulders loosened. His shoulders dropped, his spine was no longer rigid. He was calm. He was fine.

And he knew what he wanted.

“Dry me off,” he told Damen, his voice authoritative, decided, almost severe, but the kiss he followed it with was soft, thoughtful, grounded. “Take me to bed.” 

* * *

Damen’s brow furrowed when Laurent pulled away, and he kept his hands wandering warm skin as he searched for an answer in Laurent’s features. As their foreheads pressed together he fought the urge to speak, seeing that something was clearly happening with the man he loved. It pained him to see Laurent so overcome and a part of him felt sick that it was because of him. Often he wished he could be as flippant about physical desire as Laurent was, jus tot avoid /this/. 

Lovemaking was supposed to be an effortless, beautiful thing. The past few times had been like that, full of teasing and affection and loving each other until they had to find a more complete way to express it. It wasn’t supposed to be his beloved trying to regain himself from something painful that Damen couldn’t protect him from. 

He waited, and Laurent finally relaxed. Damen opened his mouth to protest, but was kissed instead. Laurent had made his decision. 

Damen kissed Laurent’s forehead before taking his hand and guiding him from the bath. He picked up a towel, drying him with tender care. He didn’t say anything, because he wasn’t sure what he /could/ say about what had just happened. He set the towel over Laurent’s shoulders and used another to quickly dry himself off. 

Then he had Laurent’s hand again, leading him back to the bedchamber. 

But he didn’t take Laurent to bed. Instead, he plucked a silk sheet from their coverings and wrapped it around his love. 

“Come here,” he said quietly, winding his arm around Laurent’s waist. He led him to the balcony, where a pile of silk cushions sat waiting, likely a hasty decision just in case the King of Vere had decided on a pet for his stay. 

Damen reclined into the cushions, inviting Laurent to him to enjoy the beautiful view together. “I want,” he began,”you to drink in the morning with me this way. And I want you to tell me what I should know about Korus, and why you care for him as you do. And when we’re hungry, we’ll call for food, drinks when we’re thirsty, and I’ll stay with you until you cannot stay any longer."

* * *

Oh, this was not what Laurent had asked for.

He held the silk sheet about him, a look of something like confusion crossing his features as Damen pulled him /away/ from where he’d asked to be taken. Laurent had almost gone deer-like - less in the eyes, and more in the way that he almost tripped over his own feet when Damen led him from the bedroom, past where he’d thought to stop, and out into the sunlight. They were high enough up that no one could see to bother them here, but Damen was not even proposing doing something worth getting caught over. He just wanted to lie there and…/talk/.

Laurent did /not/ want to talk. 

“Damianos…” He groaned, dropping his head, but there was no place to hide, per se. Damen had Laurent above him, rested on his chest, staring down at him. Yes, he could move to burrow his face in Damen’s neck, but then he would definitely be seen as hiding - which, to be fair, he would be, but he would not allow himself to be called on it.

“Korus is /young/,” he said flatly, idly reaching up to brush Damen’s curls behind his ear. They did not stay. “He was raised to be a pet, so he is as lofty and egotistical as you can imagine. He was also of my uncle’s charge, so…add misplaced nobility to that.” Amongst a thousand other things.

Laurent did /not/ want to be having this conversation.

“He is a child, and he likes childish things. He hasn’t the mind of Nicaise, but he has the mind of a servant, above all else. He is a caretaker at heart, and he has had no chances in life.” Vere would be toxic for the boy, and after what he had already been through - both a type of disgusting love /and/ loss - Laurent knew he should not stay.

No, the boy had been through enough, and Laurent knew that Korus did not even /realise/ what he’d been through, and might not for many years. If ever. 

And suddenly, Laurent was /angry/. But he presented it dispassionately, in a way only Damen would be able to see through, and only because they were /this/ close.

“I hung my uncle’s body on the palace wall, and he watched me do it,” Laurent added, emotionlessly. Of course, he didn't mean it literally - he’d had someone else carry the order - but he had made it a point that people were made to watch. He’d not known the boy would be there. He had planned for him to be busy in the servant’s quarters. The boy was surprisingly obstinate for someone raised into servitude. “I hurt him. He despises me. I will not be indebted to a child for an act I have no guilt for.”

He would do what was best for the child. He owed him that. Not because of what Laurent had done, but because of what his uncle had done.

“Was this /really/ the conversation you wanted?” Laurent asked, talking now, just as the words came, droll and bored. His mind wanted to shut this down, did not want to discuss it any further. He’d decided what he wanted to in these hours he had left with Damen…

And he’d been driven to snap, instead.

This had been exactly what he’d been trying to avoid. 

Laurent closed his eyes, as he had in the bath, and reoriented himself, dipping his head for the time to the hollow of Damen’s throat and just..getting over it. 

* * *

Damen knew full well he had annoyed Laurent in doing this, but Damianos of Akielos was not going to engage in anything with his husband-to-be that didn’t feel right. And seeing the way Laurent had seemed to be steeling himself for what should be a tender goodbye was not the image Damen wanted to be overthinking on his ride back to Ios. Laurent was an adult, a man who knew what he wanted and didn’t ask for anything less, but Damen also knew Laurent was not as experienced in the facets of a relationship such as theirs. 

He listened about Korus, arms wrapped around Laurent, his eyes off onto the grounds of Marlas. The warm breeze in his hair was pleasant, even if he could feel the growing annoyance in the man he was holding. It wasn’t funny, yet Damen found himself fighting a smile anyway. Once more, Laurent was not the ice-blooded leader everyone thought him to be, 

“It isn’t,” Damen said, tipping his head back against the cushion to take in more sun. “But it is good information to have before I take him.” The situation was delicate now, and Damen was all too aware of how easily he could break what little foundation of a good mood Laurent had left. 

“Laurent,” he began softly, twirling a golden strand of hair around his finger as he spoke. “Though we have yet to be married, you know my heart is yours. And if you want me, I will have you right here." He sat up more, tipping Laurent onto his back. The sun was so perfect on his skin. 

“But you have no obligation to me. I know you know that, but I am telling you again.” Damen leaned down to press a warm kiss to Laurent’s lips. “You’re tense, even now. And today will have enough of that when we have to leave here. I will not contribute to it."

* * *

Damen was /handling/ him again, and Laurent let it happen, rolling as he was placed, chin tilting up instinctually for a kiss, even with his mood as it was now. It would have been funny, if he wasn’t still coming down from all of /that/.

Damen was kind - infuriatingly so - and he understood Laurent in a way no other could ever hope to. He was slowly catching on to how to navigate about Laurent and his moods, and this time, it seemed he had said what Laurent wanted to hear. He knew it to be true, of course, but sometimes, to hear it said so sincerely, to know he /could/ work at his own pace and not feel pressured about it…it helped.

He still wasn't used to being /seen/ like this.

Had he not been rolled onto the sheet, he would have thrown it over Damen’s face to give himself a moment’s reprieve. 

“I do wish you would stop flaunting your free will at me,” Laurent murmured then, finding no need to hide the humor behind his eyes, a sense of good will taking over him again. Damen was stronger than the walls he’d built. The bastard. “I like you better with your mouth preoccupied.” And he craned up for a kiss, his frown loosening into a smile as he did so.

* * *

Finally, it seemed Damen had won his small victory. He burst into a grin, utterly pleased that they had come to an understanding. Whenever Laurent relaxed it always shocked Damen that he hadn’t noticed just how tense he was before. Someday he hoped that Laurent wouldn’t feel he had to be so detached with himself. But Damen suspected it would be a decade or two of constant reassurance before that began to come about. He was ready to wait. 

He laughed when Laurent talked of free will, not at all offended. It was part of their past. A painful past, but one they had spent the last year attempting to repair. They had two gleaming cuffs as a reminder of what had been. 

“Is that so,” Damen purred, meeting Laurent’s lips. He deepened the kiss immediately, sinking against Laurent, the sun on his back. This wasn’t exactly the place he’d planned on making love, but it wasn’t as if anyone could see them here, and no one was supposed to be entering their chambers for some time. 

This time he was more insistent with his kisses, grinning all the while. He was in no hurry despite the looming morning. Now it was just warm skin, still damp from the bath, an Damianos trying his very best to keep Laurent from thinking about anything else. 

* * *

Laurent melted back into the cushions, pulling Damen down further atop him, admittedly using him as a shade from the sun. Laurent would have quite enough burning on the ride home—

But he honestly was not thinking about that.

Damen deepened the kiss, and Laurent followed, his arms wrapping around Damen’s neck, not ever falling to relax against his back. If he needed to move them, he moved them into his hair, down his chest. Never down his back. Not when he could help it.

And though Damen had begun to quiet his thoughts, he was still aware enough to help it.

Life was happening all around them beneath the balcony, but Laurent only had eyes and ears for Damen. He wanted this to be just them, as he always did. For now, he just wanted to focus on Damen - and he got to. His breaths, every one of them a gift to Laurent, the soft slide of their bodies, the sheen of sweat from the morning sun alone.

Laurent let out a little sound, pressed a little more determinedly into Damen’s kisses as he gave over to.../something/ in him that said this was okay, that he wanted this more than anything. 

* * *

Damen was careful to coax Laurent into the moment. He couldn't claim to be practiced in it, because they had not coupled often. They shared intimacy in other ways. Like this. Damen was kissing languidly now, his tongue teasing past Laurent’s lips when it was allowed, one hand running the length of him, ending with a firm grip to Laurent’s thigh. 

Oil was never far from reach wherever they stayed, and it only took Damen a moment to uncork the bottle to slick his fingers. He kept his attentions constant, running his teeth over the soft skin of Laurent’s neck. He liked to suck marks there, and it gave him a sense of pride to stand beside him and know he’d been claimed, though every mark was of course covered in fabric.

Damen wasn’t so lucky, but he dared anyone to say anything about the marks Laurent sometimes left on his neck and chest. His reputation in the bedroom had become astronomical since news had carried that Laurent was actually bedding him. 

He paused to gaze down at Laurent, his eyes dusky. There was nothing quite like a morning fuck in the summer heat, and this was so much more than that. 

His finger pressed gently at Laurent’s entrance, getting him used to the feeling before he pushed inside. Working him open was something Damen liked to take time with, never wanting to cause pain. 

“You’re beautiful like this,” he breathed, starting a lazy pace with his finger. He brushed his lips to Laurent’s flushed cheek, dutifully ignoring his own arousal hanging thick between them. With a bit more oil and plenty more kisses, Damen had a second finger inside him, and resumed his gentle affections in the growing heat. 

* * *

Laurent had his arms wrapped around Damen’s neck, his leg hitched up around his waist. It was a position he fell into easily, grasping and holding on, relying on Damen to control his…control. He gave himself to Damen fully and completely in these moments, a trust he would never give to another so long as he lived. He never would have thought he would give it to Damen without ulterior motives, yet here he was, enjoying himself, allowing himself to be pleasured. His mind wouldn’t quiet until the moment where it counted, but the white noise he had now was an absolute relief. 

He always held on for as long as he could to his dignity in these moments. Damen had bedded many a man - and woman - for many an hour, and where Laurent could never see himself in a six - or seven hour - tussle in the sheets, he did like to hold out on giving Damen the satisfaction of undoing him too easily.

But he always broke at some point.

This would be the furthest Laurent had made it yet. Damen was skilled with years of practice at his back, and he knew how to work Laurent over when it came time to do so. Spreading Laurent open on his fingers always took a moment longer than Laurent wanted it to. Whether it was a kindness or just Damen testing him, Laurent had yet to find out. Either way, when he’d had enough of it, he’d had enough. 

So he pointedly rolled his hips, leveraged himself up by Damen’s sore neck to pointedly try to pull himself off those fingers, to be filled with what he wanted without having to take his lips from Damen’s to ask for it. Or, more likely, to demand it. 

Laurent loved it slow, loved to take their time in this, but even he knew when he was being teased.

* * *

Even in the heat of passion, Damen had a grin on his face. He /loved/ this. He loved seeing Laurent like this, wanting him. Just a short time ago he wouldn’t have dared to dream this could happen, and before that he never would have wanted it. But now he craved every little sound, every movement, every sign that Laurent was giving himself over. 

He let out a grunt when Laurent hung on his neck, wincing at the shot of discomfort from his soreness. But yes, he understood completely what was desired of him, and only then did Damen let himself succumb to his more carnal side. He fastened his teeth to Laurent’s neck and sucked there as he sloppily poured more oil onto his fingers and began to slick himself. 

Once he’d made a sufficient mark on Laurent’s neck, Damen sat back to admire it. The spot was pink, quickly reddening with the release of tension. He only stared for a moment before lining himself up tp Laurent’s entrance, hand guiding his cock as he finally pushed inside. 

“Laurent,” he groaned, taking care to move slowly as he worked his way deeper. No one he’d ever fucked quite matched the warmth and tightness that Laurent always met him with. The day Laurent learned how little it would take to bring him to orgasm would probably be the single most embarrassing moment in bed for Damianos, but he knew Laurent was fully capable of the feat. 

His thrusts were small and slow to reach the deepest part of his beloved, and Damen was panting by the time he was fully sheathed. 

He found Laurent’s mouth again, hot and heavy as he began rolling his hips. One hand fisted in Laurent’s hair, holding him there. 

“More?” he asked, voice thick with lust. He bucked his hips again, fighting back whoreish sounds at the dizzying friction. Damen was always torn between drawing out the pleasure or driving out release to put and end to the exquisite wait. Laurent was good at deciding such things for him. 

* * *

The effort Laurent had to put into not breaking out into some embarrassing sound from the attention to his neck alone was immense, and the only reason he succeeded was because he had taken his lip between his teeth, exhaling sharply whenever a sound threatened to escape him. His skin was already pink from the heat - both of the sun and their current efforts - but he knew the mark Damen had left would be there well after the rest of his skin cooled and returned to its usual pallor. It would be his own to gaze at in any reflection he could find later, after he had undone his own laces, when he had nothing left of Damen to—

/There/ was the sound.

Laurent couldn’t hold back the little groan that pushed out of if throat when Damen breached him, rolled his hips in so he inched in deeper. Laurent’s back arched, and he was /smiling/, bright and happy, between little pants and crosses of discomfort that flashed about his features. Damen was a large man, and deliciously proportionate throughout. Not wincing would not only be rude, but perhaps the sign of a larger problem.

“Damen—“ Laurent breathed, sharp and clipped, his back arched, his hands grasping at air and the cushions up by his head. He’d not yet fully mastered /touching/ Damen through this, never certain where to put his hands. This was perhaps the only time Laurent could ever be seen as ‘innocent,’ but it was dangerous to think that.

With Damen fully inside of him, Laurent sought his lips again, finally finding purchase in his hair to pull him as he did Laurent. 

Laurent had a habit of kissing both of their lips raw during their love making.

“Yes, more,” he breathed into their kissing with fleeting smiles, nodding somewhat enthusiastically before he was back into kissing Damen, his legs hitching a little higher about his waist. 

To think they’d been fighting just a few moments ago.

To think Laurent /could/ still think of that.

“I can take more,” he assured Damen.

* * *

Laurent’s innocence was most apparent now, and Damen loved it more than anything else. Pride was washed away with lust, but Laurent still didn’t quite know what he was doing. His earnestness was much appreciated though, and Damen wished he could have been Laurent’s first. It was a thought he had often but never expressed. It wasn’t like he could change it. But perhaps if he had been Laurent’s first he wouldn’t be to hesitant in the first place. 

He grinned at the sight of a smile on Laurent’s lips, and the burst of affection in his chest almost had him laughing with pure joy. He met each kiss with equal parts mirth and passion, groaning softly when Laurent’s legs hitched a little higher. His kisses paused for Laurent to speak, and he let his gaze wander down to swollen lips. 

Words came to his lips, but instead of saying them, he just kissed Laurent again. His body shifted to give himself better access, and his fingers curled tighter in Laurent’s hair as he began a harder pace, true rutting now. 

Kissing gave way to panting, and Damen soaked in the pleasure and sweet friction that came with making love to Laurent of Vere. No one else would ever have the chance. Damen pushed the pace, only aware of Laurent’s breath, his sounds, his movements. 

He moaned against Laurent’s neck,driving his hips in and upward with only the force he could supply. A familiar tension rose in his abdomen, and he knew he was close already—the only downside of a lack of good practice. 

“Laurent,“ his voice was teasing, taunting as he continued fucking. “Finish, for me."

* * *

Laurent looked absolutely overjoyed in the moments where he could manage it, his legs spread wide, his body inimitably filled full of Damen. His threw his head back at the thrusts of Damen’s hips, the satisfying slide of Damen in and out of him pushing the most delicious soft sounds from Laurent’s lips. Sounds he didn’t try to stop. He’d asked for more, and like the good man Damen was, he had supplied. Laurent wouldn’t hide this from him.

“Yes, that’s it—“ Laurent gasped, toes pointing and curling against his will as he adjusted to new positions, deeper thrusts, a more thorough fucking. “Harder there. Right there...”

The smile faded as Laurent was taken in a way he knew Damen always could: throughly and completely. What started as a giddiness had switched into a desperation. The heat and pressure had begun to roil in his stomach, and Laurent looked absolutely wrecked with his eyebrows drawn, his lip between his teeth, his body folded in half, taking everything Damen had to give him.

He’d hate to be on a horse after this.

With the pressure mounting inside of him, Laurent snaked his hand between them and sought out his own release, clasping his hand around himself and stroking quickly in time with the thrusts, at first, but soon his hand began to speed up, fully chasing the moment where his mind would finally quiet, when he would be all Damen’s.

Damen took him in the true Akielon style - vigorously - and Laurent wouldn’t last much longer. His hand slid up and down his length at a surprising sped as he chased his own release, not because Damen had told him to, but because he wanted to. He gazed between them as he jerked himself, seeing what he could of the Akielon pushing inside of him, stretching him, fucking him. He rolled his hips in time with Damen’s thrusts, desperation becoming more apparent in the frequency and volume of his little gasps and groans. 

He belonged to Damen and only to Damen.

He belonged to Damen.

Damen, Damen—

“/Damen/!” 

Laurent came with a silent, slack jawed cry, and for a moment, that was it. That was everything in his life. His mind finally completely quieted, and for a long moment, he was just suspended there, a vessel of pleasure and release. He could still feel Damen, could hear his breathing, could smell the sweat and the sex from his body, and Laurent felt intoxicated, light, divine. 

And then it crashed over him, leaving him shaking beneath Damen as he worked out his release.

“Inside,” Laurent gasped, an order he wouldn’t have ignored as he milked himself of this release. “Fill me.” 

* * *

Damen lost himself to pleasure, his sole purpose to make sure Laurent found his release. It was impossible to focus on anything else but the wonderful sounds and the overwhelming sensation of…liberation. That was the only thing he could equate it to, and Damen knew that feeling intimately. 

He dimly noticed Laurent’s hand coming between them and adjusted himself for a better angle. Damen liked to stay close when me made love to Laurent—any distance felt like it might somehow make their connection less strong. Sex with Laurent was never just about the physical pleasure, and Damen hoped it never relegated itself to that. 

Damen let out a soft sound of his own when he felt Laurent clench tight around him, but he didn’t stop. He did slow though, taking in the near-celestial sight of Laurent completely debauched. He wished that Laurent actually enjoyed this more. Damen would never argue, but it was so perfect to see him like this. To see him so human, as a man in love. 

But all sentiment was washed away with a torrent of desire at Laurent’s demand. Damen quivered at the authority in it. He tipped his head back just enough to catch Laurent’s half lidded eyes. Then Damen’s grip tightened, and his free hand took a firm hold of Laurent’s hip, pulling him up into his thrusts to seek his own release. 

It didn’t take long. Just seeing Laurent like that was enough, but Damen was doing everything he could to hold himself back, to make this last as long as it could. 

A moan tumbled from his lips as he found his release, sinking against Laurent’s neck to work himself through orgasm. His hips stuttered, seeking out more until he was trembling slightly, overstimulated. 

“I love you,” he breathed, heavy and warm in Laurent’s ear. As much as it was obvious, they seldom said it to each other in those words. It still felt too fragile, to sacred. Something reserved for only their most intimate moments. 

And Damen, never to be called an uncaring lover, immediately began fussing at Laurent’s neck and jaw. Every part of him shook with pleasure, hazy with affection, drunk with love. 

He would never ever admit it, but he would give up his crown for this if he had to. He wouldn’t even hesitate. 

* * *

Damen was so obedient, and even out of the mindset where he could enjoy that thought, he enjoyed it for what it was: real and tangible and something Laurent benefitted from just moment after the order had unconsciously left his kiss-swollen lips.

He let himself go just to feel Damen’s pleasure, hands framing either side of Damen’s face, staring either up at him or down between them where they had been joined, still enraptured and so, so, /so/ in love. 

Laurent was crossing a line on the stimulation, but he wasn’t quite there yet. His own pleasure lay between them, sticky and warm, completely milked out of him by Damen’s thorough nature in the bed. 

When Damen was out of his line of sight and into his neck, Laurent held his head, a mix between and sigh and a moan leaving his lips as he felt the warmth bloom inside of him, felt Damen stutter and slow.

Laurent fell back against the cushions, breathing laboriously, head tipped back, eyes closed as he attempted to gather himself.

“And I, you,” he panted out in Akielon, hands slipping off Damen to plop into the cushions. His arms ached from being upright for so long, but it was dull. It was comfortable. 

Laurent had two modes after sex: lazy lover or collected caretaker, and it seemed this day would be the one Damen liked the least.

“Let me up,” Laurent said softly, pulling himself out from under Damen with his elbows until he was finally far enough out to stand, to pad back into their chambers and into the baths. His brain was back in working, and he was /aware/ that he was hot, that he was sticky both inside and out, that he shouldn’t have gotten up because they only had a few hours together left and—

He brought back a towel and smiled at Damen as he cleaned him up, kissing him at every turn. 

And when they were clean, he tumbled back into Damen’s arms, into the cushions, not to have him think anything was wrong, not to have him think Laurent had chosen the caretaker option because of anything he had done.

* * *

Damen let out a hum of approval at Laurent’s choice of language, and realized he wasn’t even sure which one he had spoken to confess his adoration. Probably Veretian, just because it was what he was most used to with Laurent. His hand wandered back to Laurent’s thigh, smoothing up and down there while his mouth stayed busy. 

He was just about to find Laurent’s mouth for some lazy kissing when suddenly Laurent was wriggling away from him. Damen frowned, momentarily backing off in case he’d caused some sort of discomfort. 

“Laurent?” He moved so that Laurent could get up, and just like that his Veretian King was gone. Damen blinked stupidly, trying to figure out what had happened. He remembered last summer, the way Laurent had basked in the haze of their coupling, and Damen had shared soft words and touches until he was ready for more. Maybe the weather had influenced his thinking that today might be like that one, but..

Damen rolled onto his back with a sigh. Had he not been humming with aftershocks, he would have followed intently to make sure Laurent was well, but the reasonable part of his brain knew that this was just how Laurent was. Damen couldn’t help but think that maybe Laurent just saw lovemaking as a task, even now. 

He smiled stupidly when Laurent returned, and dozed peacefully as he was cleaned. Being taken care of in such a way would have been especially endearing if Damen didn’t suspect Laurent acted like this because he had been /trained/. 

It wasn’t long before Laurent was in his arms again, hair mussed and damp with sweat, much like Damen’s own. He nibbled affectionately at Laurent’s ear, hands wandering over his body once more. He circled a nipple with his thumb, realizing he hadn’t paid them nearly enough attention during their go. 

“I will dream of this every night,” Damen whispered. “I’m going to miss you so much, Laurent. Know that every day I will be counting down until I can see you next."

* * *

“Of all the things to dream about,” Laurent groaned, but in good manner, merely teasing amen. He was very much in the mood for teasing, for laughing, for kissing…   
  
Oh, his lips were going to be wrecked.  
  
“Could you not dream of the myriad of things I am /skilled/ in?” He tried again to tuck Damen’s hair behind his ears and again, it did not stay. “What about my performance in the arena? My sword fighting, my archery, my skills on the /horse/—“  
  
Damen was exhausting, and so, /so/ Akielon.  
  
And Laurent was blushing.  
  
“You are a menace…”  
  
A light breeze blew over them, bringing with it the sound of more conversation, the smell of food, of the sea, of the horses. The morning was growing later, and more and more people had arisen, some to prepare the king’s for departure, others to continue their celebrations. Many would depart Marlas today, but there were still servants there, still residents of the new capitol. Marlas, however, would not see a sizeable crowd again until the royal marriage, which seemed so, /so/ far away now.  
  
Laurent wouldn’t think of it now. For many reasons.   
  
“We’ll need more servants for the wedding,” Laurent murmured, very much thinking about it now. “More guards. Perhaps finding those would be better suited for your time than counting days.” But Laurent said it fondly, with a soft smile reserved for Damen before going in for another kiss, taking and clasping the hand that Damen kept rubbing at his nipple with.   
  
“I am not taking this away because it is bothering me,” Laurent said pointedly and, just to make sure that point stuck, he kissed every one of Damen’s knuckles on the back of his hand. He knew how Damen thought of him, of how /he/ thought of their love making, and it definitely was something Laurent had on his mind now, along with a million other thoughts. Laurent didn’t do things because anyone made him. He did them because he /wanted/ to. He’d learned that, long ago, and he wished Damen would /understand/ that.  
  
“I will miss the way you feel, Damianos."

* * *

“And how did you become skilled in those things?” Damen teased. “Practicing them for /hours/ every day.” He laughed, adjusting his hold tighter around Laurent as the breeze drifted over them. He kissed the crown of Laurent’s head, taking in the atmosphere of their beautiful soon-to-be home. It would be incredibly difficult to leave Ios, but what Damianos loved most about home was the family that no longer lived there, Cosmas aside. Marlas was a meaningful place for them, and it would serve them well as a capitol once everything was finished. 

“By the time of our wedding, there will be no more slaves, so I suppose there will be a surplus of servants to hire,” Damen replied, trying his best /not/ to discuss their wedding. He didn’t want to be planning such a joyous thing when Laurent was going to be across the kingdom. 

Laurent took his hand away, and Damen almost frowned, but instead was smiling again, cheeks reddened at the gentle caress of lips on his knuckles. The sentiment that left those perfect lips brought a lump to his throat and a tightness to his chest he couldn’t ignore. He had left Laurent once before, and ended up turning right back around to find him again. He wished he could do the same today. 

“Well, you will be happy to know I don’t charge for that,” he teased, but he knew what Laurent was truly saying. 

With a more serious tone, he added, “So why take my hand away?"

* * *

“I take your hand away for the very same reason I do most things,” Laurent dismissed, with that same warm smile he’d had for most of this morning. “Because I /want/ to.” 

And because truly, they need not get into it again. Laurent had a horse to ride for many, /many/ miles. He would regret the decision later, but absence and fondness and all that. Damen had him in so many other ways, and Laurent wished he could do more than he had, but they would be apart for too long. He’d be free to his thoughts for longer than he needed to be. They’d done what felt right and natural. Laurent could wait.

And so could Damen.

Their whole movement to rid of slaves would take up all their time between now and then anyway, and Laurent wasn’t even sure which kingdom would be the more difficult sell. Laurent would return to Arles to face many issues, to quell fires before they started burning at their marriage. He truly did know about much Damen was returning to. These should have been decisions made together, but the circumstances, the rarity of their type of union made things...different. It was a lofty pursuit to ban slavery before the union, but they were going to try. 

They were going to succeed.

“Did I not tell you ‘no’ enough?” Laurent asked, haughtily, leaning in for another series of short kisses. 

Kisses that eventually grew longer, deeper, until he was licking at Damen’s lips again, hands clasped in dark curls, pulling him closer, holding him in. 

* * *

Damen didn’t press the issue, he knew when he was walking into a fight. So he dropped it, leaving his gaze to wander instead. Laurent had such a pleasing body—he was well muscled, slender, with a dazzling smile framed with pink lips. When his cheeks flushed they reminded him of the rose that dusted peaches in the orchards outside of Ios, and when he was truly embarrassed or particularly hot, his cheeks turned red as strawberries. Kissing them was just as sweet. 

“I’m a king, I listen to no one,” Damen laughed, meeting Laurent’s lips. 

His humor faded to something more heated when the kisses became deeper, and when Laurent's hands came to his face Damen coaxed his lips apart, tasting as he wanted. It was one of those marvelous sessions where their bodies seemed to know instinctively what to do. This was the kind of conversation where they were both on even ground.

He desperately wished he could have courted Laurent properly. He would have loved to win him over with he power of Akielos behind him. Though he supposed he could have ruined it early, and dashed the chance at this. 

He wanted to say that they would be needed soon, but Damianos knew that everyone in Marlas could guess what they were up to on this last morning together. No one would come looking. They had no meals to attend. When they were ready, they would simply walk out, mount their horses, and say goodbye. 

The last part would not be so easy. 

“I would take you again,” Damen said (no, it wasn’t a whine) sometime later, when his lips were swollen and red, but he didn’t find it in himself to care. But he knew he would not win that fight, so he wrapped his arms around Laurent again and rolled them over so that Laurent was on top of him for a change in position to carry on with their kisses. 

If things continued so perfectly, someone would need to drag him away to keep him from Laurent when the time came to leave him.

* * *

“You'd listen to me if I asked you to,” Laurent countered quietly, with absolute amusement and glee, knowing he was damn right.

He really tried not to take advantage of it. 

In the heat of the morning, in the kisses and intimacy that passed between them, he would have let Damen take him again, but it simply never happened. They were too caught up in each other, in this little conversations that always presented themselves as squabbles, but were merely two kings showing off to one another in a mild state of courting. 

Laurent’s body was occupied by his lover, but unfortunately, his mind could not be stopped again as it had been once this morning. Every moment he was marking as his 'last this, his last that’, or ‘something he would miss,’ or worst of all, ‘something he’d forget.’ He was taking in all he could of Damen from the tips of his toes to the infuriating curls that would not tuck behind his ears. Laurent heard him in Akielon, in Veretian, in little groans and whines that transcended language.

And he knew Damen was doing the same. Though, he assumed Damen had positive thinking on the outcome of the next few months, and saw this as a shorter trip than a longer one. 

He wasn’t _so_ predictable, but Laurent hoped that was what he was thinking anyway. Again, he did so like balance, and Damen’s positive nature worked so well with Laurent’s own realism.

* * *

Damen was also unable to keep his thoughts from the near future. Each kiss was one closer to their last, each touch was the last Damen would feel for some time. But he was all smiles, laughing and nuzzling and sharing quips between increasingly desperate bouts of kisses. Both of them could feel their time running out, and as the sun rose higher, Damen wished he had not slept. Had not wasted any precious time left with the man he loved more than anything. 

At one point they moved to the baths to rinse the sweat from their bodies. It resulted in more kissing, Damen coming very close to trying once more to convince Laurent for one more coupling, but they did eventually get clean enough to…return to bed. 

Damen was in the middle of sucking another mark on Laurent’s neck (there were several now) when there was a knock at the door. He pulled off, cheeks flushed and lips aching, but said nothing. 

“Exalted, preparations are complete for you traveling party,” came a voice from outside. "For His Majesty as well.”

It was Nikandros, likely the only person who dared to interrupt, and he had been careful not to imply it was time to leave, though it was clear that was the goal. 

“Thank you,” Damen replied evenly. “Please have meals brought for both of us.”

“Immediately, Exalted.”

Damen turned back to Laurent, sadness in his eyes now. Their time together was coming to a close. He thumbed affectionately at Laurent’s cheek and kissed him, soft and gentle. 

“Will you stay with me until the last moment?” Damen murmured. “We have nothing to do until we have to go. I want every last moment with you."


	4. Part I: Departure of Marlas (29.12.19)

Laurent had no plans of leaving until Jord dragged him out of their chambers— and even then, he would delay, just to remind Jord of his place. And to see Damen a moment longer. 

And instead of giving an answer, he kissed Damen again, thinking that perhaps his last kiss hadn’t been meaningful enough to be their last for a while. 

Laurent’s fingers ghosted over his own neck, feeling the heat in his skin in all the little spots Damen had marked on him. 

His most recent one would peek over the collar of his jacket.

“I wish he had walked in here,” Laurent murmured, resting his forehead against Damen’s, pretending as if he had not heard the news. “I like reminding him of my place in your life.” Because Nikandros was important to Damen - and also harmless. Laurent liked him more than perhaps Nikandros would ever believe.

He would take care of Damen.

“I suppose,” Laurent murmured softly, going in for another kiss. “I should dress... I will need help.” 

* * *

“He’s Akielon, and we don’t barge in on lovers,” Damen said with a hint of pride. Nikandros was wary of Laurent even now, but he would venture to say that he’d warmed up to Veretian when no attempts on Damen’s life had been made in the middle of the night and no poison had been found in his food. Though he was fairly certain Nikandros suspected some kind of hex had been put on Damen during his time in Vere that hadn’t worn off yet. 

“He knows your place in my life,” Damen said with a chuckle. “All too well, in his opinion.”

Damen didn’t meet Laurent’s kiss right away, cocking a brow instead. 

“Oh? I thought you were 'perfectly capable of dressing yourself?’” he teased, then found Laurent’s lips again, lingering there just a moment longer than he needed to. 

He moved to his feet and grabbed up his skirt, fastening it around his hips for when a servant inevitably brought their breakfast. 

“I think we should wait until you’ve eaten,” Damen suggested. “How unfortunate it would be to get food on your travel clothing. Not to mention I prefer you this way.” 

He grinned as there was a knock on the door. He glanced at it, then back to Laurent, letting him decide if they should allow entry. Damen was fine with it now that he had something to wear, so he left the decision to him.

* * *

A menace!

Laurent gave Damen a sly look, impressed by his snark. He’d been brave enough to do it when he thought himself incognito, talking up to a prince so boldly and brazenly. It had gotten him in trouble in the past, but Laurent had stopped putting limits on Damen’s wit.

However, Laurent was /not/ impressed when Damen did not call in the servant. 

“/Come in/,” Laurent snapped at the door, still not used to this Akielon form of servitude. He didn’t understand that Damen was giving him the option of modesty, but why on earth would he? He was nude, not splayed out with Damen still buried inside of him. 

Not that /that/ would matter, anyway.

“Are you really going to offer me nothing to wear?” Laurent asked Damen, not paying a bit of mind as the servant entered the room, the Akielon’s eyes directly on Laurent. His rear, mostly. The servant /flushed/ a deep red as the Veretian king gave Damen a playful shove with one dismissive hand and made his way to grab one of the fine, silk sheets from the bed.

“Your majesties,” the servant spoke up, setting down the tray of fresh coastal fruits, of breads and squeezed juice from the late summer harvest. “Your—“ he cleared his throat as Laurent turned around, unassuming and merely scanning the plate. The servant swallowed thickly and bowed.

“Your breakfast,” he finally got out. “May I fetch you anything more?”

He had /so/ much to tell the others. Laurent was convinced they all reported in whenever this happened. He didn’t mind.

“They’ve accounted for your appetite,” Laurent said to Damen, plucking a wedge of fruit from the tray and popping it into his mouth. And then, to the servant, “This will do, thank you.”

The Akielon servant turned to Damen, awaiting his satisfaction, understandably. He /was/ the man’s actual king, after all. 

* * *

Damen frowned, shooting Laurent a look for his tone. It wasn’t as if the servant had any choice in coming in or not, it was their job to invite them. An Akeilon servant (and slave, until the law was changed) never entered a room unless invited. It was a rule of decency and respect for the bedchamber. Vere did not have the same ideals at all, but Damianos would never shake his conviction that sex was a private affair, only for those involved. 

“I gave you my reasoning,” Damen replied with a shrug, smirking as Laurent shoved him. He did notice that the servant was /eyeing/ Laurent, and he did not appreciate that. Servants and slaves alike had been ruled not to even look away from the floor in the presence of royalty. While Damen no longer agreed with that sentiment, he did not like thinking about what the servant might tell others. 

When the servant turned to him, Damen had a bit of a scowl.

“Yes, that will be enough,” Damen growled. “And next time, you will keep your eyes from my intended when he’s in such a state. Am I understood?”

The servant all but fell to the floor. “M-my deepest apologies, Exalted. Forgive me, I beg of you!”

The poor boy was trembling. Damen sighed, bringing a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Forgiven. But I will not be forgiving if it happens again. Go on.”

“I am indebted to y—“

“Go,” Damen commanded. “Lest I change my mind.”

The servant jumped up without another word, retreating as quickly as he could. 

“I do not understand you Veretians,” Damen said with a roll of his eyes as he approached the tray. He selected a slice of watermelon and took a delicious bite, pink juice dripping down his chin. A perfect pick of melon. “Especially you. The frigid prince turned king, yet you call servants into our bedchamber with marks of pleasure all over you.” He wasn’t complaining, necessarily. Laurent could do as he liked, he was a king. 

Damen offered Laurent his slice of watermelon to taste, smiling. “I still feel uncomfortable even discussing that I’ve bedded you,” he admitted. “Nor am I sure how to react when Vereian nobles /congratulate/ me for attaining you. No Akielon would ever speak to a king that way, and Nikandros is the only one who would even dare to /imply/ such a thing.”

Of course, Nikandros had commented more than once about Laurent’s features and fair hair, but it was always edged with the implication that Damen was just a stag in the rut searching for the nearest fair skinned blond to fuck. 

“And to think you were hesitant to walk the palace grounds nude last summer."

* * *

Laurent regarded from his casual seat on the edge of the bed as Damen put the servant in his place. Damen had been captain of his guard, and Laurent had seen him like this throughout that, but to see him in charge again, to see him owning his command...Laurent very nearly found the time to let Damen take him again.

He was so deliciously possessive of Laurent, in a way that stemmed from adoration Laurent had never felt before. The last person to ever protect his honour so ferociously was Auguste, but contrary to what many Veretians still believed, Auguste had never been given the chance to requite Laurent for disrespect in the bedroom. 

“You were quite cross with him,” Laurent noted, amused, as he reached out to swipe his thumb over the juice on Damen’s chin. He brought it to his lips and sucked it off almost lewdly before leaning in to bite the watermelon, not a drip to be seen when he pulled away. It was /quite/ good. They didn’t have such fine fruits in Vere.

“The bedchambers are the place to be nude,” Laurent said with an eye roll, fingers delicately floating over the tray in a hunt for his next pick of the treats they’d been given. He went for a cube of bread this time. “The /baths/ are a place to be nude. The gardens and out among the people?” Laurent shook his head. Yes, he had done it, and it had been exhilarating, but it wasn’t a habit he now had. “There is no shame in being bed by one’s betrothed and being open about that, and you will not be capable of making me think otherwise.”

“I am proud to have you, Damen,” Laurent added pointedly. “I /want/ people to know I have you. No matter what they say.” He popped the cube of bread past his lips.

“And I do know they have a /lot/ to say."

* * *

“He was staring,” Damen muttered, enraptured by the way Laurent sucked the watermelon juice from his finger. It sent a shot of heat right between his legs, but Damen at least had a skirt to protect himself from complete immaturity. It didn’t help that Laurent took a bite without getting juice on himself at all, which meant he’d had to apply just the right amount of sucking to—

Damen cleared his throat and took a bit once Laurent was finished. 

The praise was unexpected, leaving Damianos to stare like a bewildered animal with watermelon stuffed in his mouth. Of course he knew Laurent was proud to be with him, but to hear him say it was something else. He chewed and swallowed, shaking his head. 

“They say you allow a barbarian in your bed to mount you like a horse,” Damen supplied bitterly. “But I will say back when I was your slave they supposed I must be the best fuck in the kingdom for you to keep me alive as long as you did. I didn’t mind that one so much.”

He took another bite until his watermelon was at the rind, then set it back on the tray to be discarded later. He then followed Laurent’s lead with a cube of bread.

“What we do here is not anyone’s business but ours,” Damen said. “Nudity is not anything to be ashamed of in Akielos, but interrupting intimate relations is not the same. We believe there is something…sacred,“—he spoke the word slowly in Akielon for Laurent to decipher—“about lovemaking and it is not to be disturbed or shared with others in that way. It has nothing to do with shame. I am clearly not ashamed to have bedded as many as I have, nor am I ashamed to make love to you, but I do not intend on sharing that with anyone else.”

He had only really spoken of it to Nikandros, and he was general. And Nikandros had tried his best to ignore him while staring him in the face, an expression Damen knew well. 

“So when a servant ogles you like that, I will not have it. There is a difference between bathing and dressing someone and /that/.”

He had eaten three bread cubes already, and took a glass of juice instead. 

“You may not mind, but I do, so it will not be tolerated."

* * *

The amusement didn’t leave Laurent’s gaze as Damen went on. He should have been getting dressed, but instead, Laurent had rolled onto his back, listening to Damen as he stole up another wedge of orange. He /liked/ Damen like this, and he would not deny it, nor himself of it. Laurent had become quite used to people talking about him behind his back, but he was not sure Damen ever would.

“He was probably in shock,” Laurent offered on behalf of the servant, understanding it a little more now that Damen had broken down the sacred nature of it all. It sounded silly to him, but he was still learning Akielon culture as Damen had learned Veretian. Mixing them would…not be terribly easy, but they would get to that another day. “From what I am sure he’s heard. The Veretians think of _you_ as beast mounting me. What must the Akielons think of _me_?”

Another thing they had not yet discussed. But most Akielons knew not to say anything to the Veretian king’s face. That was probably of Damen’s doing. With how mouthy his own love was, Laurent could not imagine all Akielons to be as tame as the servants Laurent mostly dealt with in Marlas. Those in Ios had not yet had the time to speak with him much. His last stay in Ios had been spent with only Nikandros, Damen’s physician, and ultimately Damen when he awoke. He’d not even seen Cosmas. 

“They’ve not seen me as Vere has seen you— and Vere has not even seen /you/,” Laurent continued, now draped over the side of the bed, his hair - having grown quite a bit - hanging below him. He looked too calm and graceful for someone’s whose face would be red in mere moments. 

Auguste had worn his hair long, but Laurent’s hair was still short, comparatively. 

“And they will see you, Damianos. As Akielon will see me. Many things will be said.” It wasn’t a lesson, nor was it a warning. Just a statement of fact. Laurent wasn’t about to dissuade Damen from protecting him as he had.

“The lack of an heir will be the largest rumour we face.”

It was a /heavy/ statement to unleash so close to the end of their time together, but to think Laurent had said it passively would be idiocy. 

He popped another cube of sweet bread into his mouth before adjusting himself on the bed and moving to his feet to grab up a glass of the juice. 

* * *

“They think you’re beautiful,” Damen said easily. They did. He heard plenty of whispers—Vere had taught him some things. “They think you’re so beautiful that they believe I’m as good in bed as the stories say, because that is the only reason they can see you staying with the likes of me, and they always thought I was rather attractive.” The gossip was mostly about why Damianos would choose the King of Vere to marry, and not someone…simpler. Less politically complicated. And yes, they also thought Laurent was a pretentious ass and far too arrogant, but even then a pretty face could get away with quite a bit. 

He eyed Laurent as he lounged about, completely carefree, utter nobility. Everything was lazy and loose, uncaring. Another difference between Vere and Akielos, and one that would take some adjusting for the kyroi. 

“You handled yourself perfectly when I was injured,” Damen reminded him. “That could have doomed you had you taken charge, but instead you navigated a treacherous path and came out with my kingdom’s respect, whether you know it or not. You certainly earned Nikandros’s, and that is more difficult than any of the kyroi.”

Damen wasn’t fazed by mention of a lack of heir. “We need to marry first,” he reminded Laurent. “Then we will discuss an heir.” Laurent had already told him he wanted his bloodline to end. Damianos had been similar at Laurent’s age, but four years on, he wanted a child. Not now, but soon. Unfortunately there was no royalty on either side to help continue a line, so they would have to choose who would provide a child, and with whom. 

“Unless you’re worried,” Damen amended, eyes curious as he took a bite of honeydew. “In that case, we can discuss it now, if you wish."

* * *

“Not /worried/,” Laurent dismissed easily, sipping from his glass as he moved over to his trunk. He supposed he would be attending himself this morning. “I just know we will hear it more than anything else they will have to say about us.” It seemed that it was something Laurent had been steeling himself for for /years/. He’d made this decision when he was quite young - thirteen to be exact - and he’d stuck to it this long. He’d merely put it out there because, well, he had no intention of changing his mind, and he wanted Damen to /know/ that. 

“The nature of our marriage is not normal,” Laurent added after. “Not in Vere anyway, and not in what I know of your history. There are perversities people will accuse us of.” But that was nothing new, either. 

Laurent pulled out a pair of breeches, went about pulling them up his legs. He supposed it was something of a button on their time together, but it would take him some time to get dressed, and he had to rip the bandage of sooner or later.

“And I did not handle much well in the Akielon way when you were recovering,” Laurent confessed, fishing out his tunic from the trunk. “Where Nikandros may respect me now, he did not then, and we got into many a dispute in your…absence. He would not leave me alone with you but…once or twice, I believe. He slept in a chair in your—“ In Kastor’s chambers. After they’d moved Damen from the medical chambers, they’d moved him into the king’s chambers, still filled with Kastor’s things. “--In your chambers."

Laurent had ordered it cleared, and that had been yet another dispute between himself and Nikandros.

“They may think me beautiful, but I don’t think the Akielons care for me in the way you think they do.” Laurent didn’t know, of course, but he could not say he’d been liked much as a leader before, and that was even by people who had had /years/ to get over it. “And I think keeping you from continuing your line will be held against me. And you should prepare for that, as you will be the one they look to to deal with it, just as the Veretians will look to me.

* * *

Damianos had trouble remembering much of anything after Kastor’s death. but he did remember waking in his father’s bedchamber with Laurent asleep in his clothes beside him, still covered in blood. It was one of many moments that Damen knew he would have no one else. He couldn’t imagine being in Laurent’s place for that time—completely alone in a kingdom he didn’t know, protecting a man who had been his sworn enemy just months earlier. Nikandros would not have made things any easier. 

He crossed to his betrothed, wordlessly pulling Laurent’s shirt to go over his tunic. Damen helped Laurent into it, and began with his left sleeve. He could now talk while he laced, which was a large improvement from the beginning of all of this. 

“Akielon are not like those of Vere,” Damen reminded him. “They know you could have tried to take control out from under me. You didn’t. And Nikandros agreed to teach you wrestling—that is a compliment you should not take lightly, so matter what sour faces he gives you.”

Damen /did/ note that Laurent was implying there would be no heir at all. But there had to be.The newly formed kingdom would be thrown into turmoil if there was no one to carry on the crown. But he assumed he was misinterpreting, or perhaps not understanding the Veretian meaning completely. He did not want to discuss it now and potentially part from Laurent with a disagreement. 

“I know my people,” Damen assured Laurent, moving to his right sleeve. “They trust me, Laurent. And if they don’t trust me, they trust Nikandros. And he may not admit it, but he does trust you.” He leaned in, pressing a kiss to Laurent’s cheek. 

“We will find a solution to the heir concerns, and deal with it then. But first we must be married, and that will be enough of a headache.”

* * *

Laurent supposed it would suffice for now. It was so very /Damen/ to table the discussion, to put it off for a time that it didn’t need to be put off for. Laurent thought that ill-advised, but he supposed /that/ was the balance. He would have to handle the four steps ahead while Damen handled the present.

“I suppose,” Laurent semi-agreed, dropping his arm as the lacing was finished. He worked at the lacing on his breeches while giving Damen the access to the lacings at his throat. Laurent thought his beloved should have every right to see those markings he’d left last - and also should be able to see the one that would not hide behind brocade fabric. 

Oh, the /things/ his guard would say when they saw it.

Exaltations to Damen, undoubtedly.

“I will write you as well, you know,” Laurent said in a turning of the subject, when he was laced up from neck to ankle. Hit boots were still in the trunk, and those would take another few moments to lace. The dressing had gone much faster with four hands - perhaps more so than either of them would have liked, but there Laurent was. The young king, regal, and /so/ Veretian. 

“We will employ a private messenger.” There would be good money in transporting the messages of two kings at the frequency they could write in. “It is a trying journey, but the price will be right. I will see to it.”

And he would eagerly await an unimpeded delivery of the letters that he was sure could make /anywhere/ feel like a home, even without Damen there at his side.

Oh, and also Nikandros’ letters.

Yes, Laurent had employed Nikandros to update him on Damen’s health, his hardships, things he would not tell Laurent about. Nikandros had not necessarily /agreed/, but Laurent knew his love for Damen. Nikandros would even tell the King of Vere to demand Damen to sleep, to eat, to control himself if there was nothing else that could be done. It would be difficult, but honestly, Laurent did not hope for /many/ letters from him. 

* * *

Damianos didn’t mind dressing Laurent. He preferred to do it over having a servant take up the job, if only to make sure he was the only one who got to be so close to Laurent, the only one to graze his fingers over soft skin. His gaze locked on the marks on Laurent’s neck, and it took every ounce of willpower not to lean in and press a tender kiss to that mark that peeked over Laurent’s collar. That was his favorite mark, and he had plans to repeat it as soon as they found each other again. 

“I’ve hired four,” Damen said, grinning. “One to be at Ios, one at Arles, two waiting at Marlas for exchanges.” It seemed he could be a step ahead of Laurent after all, if only in things relating to their romance. He would take that victory. 

Damen leaned in, pressing a kiss to Laurent’s forehead, the bridge of his nose, the tip of his nose, and one little brush of skin before finding those sweet lips again. His arms wound around Laurent’s waist, holding him tight and secure. He could still smell the perfumes from the baths, the comfortable scent of warm summer skin. Laurent would be roasting in this outfit, but Damianos had long since learned not to try to persuade him into something different. 

When he pulled away it was to go to his own trunk, where a skirt of armor sat inside. Unlike Laurent, he could dress in a matter of minutes. He changed out of his current skirt for the armor, and quickly had his shoulder guards attached across his chest, his vambraces buckled, and his red cloak pinned at his collarbone with the golden lion of his title. 

Even his sandals were a matter of a few hops to slip them on, and then a quick few buckles Damen was a master at fastening after years of practice. His greaves gleamed silver as he attached them around his calves, and then he was ready for a day of riding and whatever that might bring. 

He popped another piece of melon into his mouth as he made his way back to Laurent, smiling around it. 

“We can inspect our caravans together,” he offered, extending a hand. “And I can make sure your horse is fit to carry you for your journey, for my own peace of mind.”

* * *

“You purchased that horse for me,” Laurent reminded Damen, impressed by his planning yes, but ready to knock him down a peg for boasting about it. “I should hope you checked it prior to the exchange.” He would never stop giving Damen a hard time. Even as he was dressed now, in a show of power and pride to the Akielons and Veretians alike, even when they would leave this room undeniably dressed as two kings, Laurent would /always/ be there to chasten his plume.

But it was only in good fun. Damen had more right to a throne than Laurent did. He had earned it. Damianos was every bit a king, without question. He filled the role physically more than Kastor ever had. Regality poured from him, shone in him, and he looked absolutely wonderful in it. 

“How is this practical?” Laurent asked, running his hands over Damen’s bare chest. “Arrows would just—“ He poked Damen in the chest three times, maybe a little too hard, but pointedly. It would be a much cooler ride for Damen than it would be for Laurent, but dressed like that, Laurent may as well have just been a target. Mostly to the /sun/.

And yes, Laurent knew enough about Akielon clothing to know this was not meant to be armor, but oh, if Laurent were still at war with Akielon, and if he was less than a man, he’d know precisely when to plan an ambush. Once they saw the bronzed chest of the king, bare, open, and ready to sheathe an arrow.

If they weren’t too distracted by said…bronzed, bare, open chest. As Laurent had still managed to be. 

He cleared his throat, stole another wedge of orange and nodded to the door.

“Lead the way, then,” he ordered, giving the room a final once around. Laurent had truly not yet seen all of Marlas. He always found himself more distracted by the other King within it. He wondered if these chambers would be theirs when they were united, if these were meant to the be the rooms of the King, or something they merely put the two of them in when Laurent was around. He couldn't imagine a nicer room than this one.

He would miss it. 

He would miss Damen.

* * *

“It’s practical for riding in summer,” Damen chuckled. “What, would you prefer me to wear my breastplate in this heat?” The prods to his chest were adorable to him, even the ones he was sure Laurent meant to cause him discomfort with. Men in Akielos had no reason to hide their bodies, and in fact they were a source of pride. Why bother with clothing when something unique and worked hard for lay just underneath the fabric? 

Laurent would look very handsome indeed in such an outfit, but Damen knew he would never wear one. Not in summer, anyway. Perhaps winter, when the air was still warm in Ios, but not stifling. Laurent would also need some more color to his skin—color that was not red. 

He fought back a laugh at the way Laurent was staring, as though they hadn’t made love just hours ago, as though Damen hadn’t been nude not a moment before. Perhaps clothing was useful after all. 

“Come,” Damianos purred, twining their fingers together and lifting Laurent’s knuckles to his lips. 

The guards jumped to attention as they exited, and Damen instructed the waiting servant that their things could be packed. He headed down one of the sunlit halls of Marlas, and tried to imagine what would be different when they returned. Construction would be immense, but not as costly as it seemed. Not as costly as the war would have been, not even close. Trade was booming, and foreign nations were clambering at the chance to be involved. 

“Exalted,” Nikandros greeted with a bow of his head once they arrived at the Ios-bound caravan. “Your Majesty.” 

“Had enough of Marlas?” Damen asked reaching out to rub the nose of one of the horses waiting by one of the main wagons. 

“I’ve had enough of the feasting and games, yes,” Nikandros said. “I’ve barely had time to begin on anything as Kyros, I’ve been too busy following you around.”

Damen laughed, turning back to him. “Well, not too much longer. I think we will be departing in under an hour.” He looked to Laurent to see if his timing was correct. “Begin preparations to depart.”

Nikandros didn’t look entirely convinced that Damianos was going to leave on time at all, but he nodded. “Of course, Exalted.”

“Come say goodbye to Nikri,” Damen said to Laurent, grinning. “He will perhaps mourn your absence more than I will, what with no more apples slipped into his feed.”

Oh yes, he had seen. 

* * *

The heat had swelled even more since their morning activities, Laurent realized the /moment/ he stepped outside, the air heavy with it. It was easy to tell a Veretian from an Akielon with a mere sweep of his gaze, only needing the clock the amount of skin being shown. To the Akielons, they all must look wildly overdressed, but of course to the Veretians, the Akielons were in the equivalent of nightclothes - not suitable for the day, out among the people. 

Another cultural issue they would face.

Nikandros was just as undressed as Damen was, and though he was a handsome man, Laurent would hate to be the one sat that close to Damen, looking as he did. He greeted Nikandros curtly, a glance of acknowledgement merely, as Laurent made his way over to the Friesian Nikandros called his own. Laurent rubbed his nose, and unlike his owner, the horse did not give Laurent a look of disgust for trying to be /nice/. But he never had to deal with Nikandros for too long. He usually had an excuse to exit mere moments after seeing Laurent.

Truly, Laurent only thought he allowed them to wrestle because Nikandros /really/ liked to hit the Veretian King. He respected that.

Laurent let his hand slip from the horse’s nose as Nikandros went off to his duties, only turning back when Damen invited him along—

And accused him of slipping apples into his horse’s feed. Laurent gave Damen a sly little look as he strode past him, haughtily towards the Akielon caravan, to the stables where Nikri was held.

Damen could pin him for the apples, but Laurent knew for certain Damen had never caught the cubed sugar. 

* * *

“Damianos.”

Before Damen could follow Laurent, Nikandros called to him. He turned, his smile not fading. He loved Nikandros, and one of the only things he was looking forward to upon returning to Ios was restrengthening their friendship. Damen still considered him his best friend, and he still brought a joy to him, even when Nikandros was being bitter. 

“Yes?”

Nikandros stepped closer, and Damen could see he was concerned. Damen’s smile faltered slightly, and he called over to his shoulder to Laurent, “I’ll be there in a moment. Please don’t give him any more apples until I get there!”

“Damen,” Nikandros said quietly, using his more familiar name. “Will you be able to do this?”

“Do what?” Damen replied, brow lifting. 

“Be away from him.”

“Nikandros—“

“I’m not a fool,” Nikandros murmured. “Anyone can see how smitten you are with him.”

Damen rolled his eyes. “We’re to be /married/, Nik.”

“I know.” Nikandros crossed his arms. “But I also know what distance can do, and especially what it can do to you. I’m just saying that he may not feel the same. Have you discussed it?” A pause, one Nikandros knew to read perfectly. “You haven’t. He’s Veretian. Having spent the last two weeks with these people it is clear to see that their idea of entertainment is pleasuring themselves in public. These ‘pets’ they have are no better than—“

“Laurent is not like that,” Damen growled. 

Nikandros snorted. “Right. You were his slave, not his pet.”

“Nikandros,” Damen warned, hand curling to a fist at his side. 

The other man shook his head. “You are a good man. You are loyal and selfless. You could be gone for years and never even think to betray someone you love. Him? You have no idea. You’ve never been apart from him more than a few weeks.”

“Nikandros!”

Nikandros shook his head again. “You know I am not lying. Your version of faithfulness may not be his. I am not saying that he will betray you, but without establishing what entails faithfulness between their culture and ours, he could very likely betray you in the eyes of Akielos. He could find a pet, entertain nobility, sway them the Veretian way. You told me about his relations with Torvald, how he all but brought him to bed in front of the court.”

Damen bristled, and would have struck any other man for saying those words. But he knew Nikandros was only trying to protect him, and he also knew there was some truth in what he was saying. And it /hurt/. 

“I will not see my King made a fool,” Nikandros said softly. “I know…I know how you love him. And I will not let him hurt you when I can at least try to prevent it.”

Damen swallowed hard, his chest suddenly heavy. “Thank you,” he said quietly after a long silence. “If I could offer you something higher than Kyros of Ios, I would, dear friend.”

Nikandros bowed his head and dismissed himself. 

Damen hurried to the stables, the sunshine drained from his face. “Leave us,” he demanded of the guards. Nikri stood proudly, tall and muscular, a regal curve to his neck even as he snuffled at Laurent’s clothing in search of treats. His grey dapples reminded Damen of sunlight through leaves, and his mane and tail were long and full. He looked especially outstanding beside Laurent’s mare. 

“Laurent,” Damen said softly, his voice uncharacteristically weak. “I need…I’m not yet ready for you to leave."

* * *

While Nikandros undoubtedly spoke freely and unchecked with his king about Laurent, Laurent made his way to the stables. In their last moments together, they would take more time apart. Laurent shook his head and stepped inside, greeted by the servants within as he passed indifferently.

To the Akielons, Laurent was never ‘Exalted.’ He was ‘Your Majesty,’ or ‘Your majesty /of Vere/.” They’d made ‘Exalted’ an Akielon word in their early advances on mingling the culture, but it seemed the servants did not see it as a fitting word for the Veretian king. No matter.

“Look at my sweet boy,” Laurent said aloud in /thick/ Veretian, knowing not a single one of the servants could understand him. He took his step up to Damen’s gelding’s stall, and the horse clopped over to him instantly. His own horse followed suit and, perched between two stalls, Laurent was able to lay his hand on both their noses in greeting.

Within seconds, he had a bit of cubed sugar for each of them, held out in flat palms for them to lip at. He did not smile, as he knew he was being watched, but it wasn’t as if either of the beasts would mind him for it.

“And you,” Laurent greeted his own horse properly, pressing his forehead to her muzzle, taking a moment with her. As someone who had been met with a poisoned horse more times than he would like, he always took this time to test her temperament, to make sure she was not flighty, not ill, not sweat-covered or trembling under her own weight. 

She did not start or spook when a clatter rang about the stable, followed immediately by a servant apologising. 

It was so strange to see the king of Vere /care/ for something.

“My beautiful Ven,” Laurent murmured to her, taking a step back just as Damen entered...and cleared the stables.

Laurent had a quip on his lips, ready and waiting to use it as he turned to face Damen—

And caught that look in his eye.

Laurent stopped where he stood, only moving when Nikri nudged at his pocket holding the sugar cubes, but Laurent was far too distracted to hand one over.

“Damen?” Laurent asked, taking a step forward to meet his king as if he expected Damen not to make it. What had happened? Why had gone wrong? Had something happened in the palace? Had he received news from Ios? 

Whatever it was, they could face it together. Laurent would not leave Damen alone to deal with—

...his leaving?

“Damen,” Laurent started again with a huff of a quiet laugh. He went back to his ministrations of petting the horses, sneaking them both a cube while Damen was perhaps not clued in enough to Laurent giving the horses sweets. “I have not been given an option. I /must/ leave today, and soon, at that. What has come over you?”

* * *

Damen couldn’t see Laurent ever being unfaithful, but Nikandros was right. Damen had lived as a slave in Vere, but even that time had only been a taste of what it was like to live there. Laurent had led him around on his gold leash, forced him to participate in pet games, but Damen had spent many days locked away in his room, unable to see anything at all. Worst was the memory of Torvald, who so obviously wanted Laurent, and Laurent had used that to his advantage with no plans to requite his affections. 

Laurent was a master at what he did. Damen could see him convincing a visiting noble that he was perhaps—perhaps—able to be swayed from his Akielon king. Maybe simply for amusement, a King bored without his beloved. Maybe for political gain that would benefit both Vere and Akielos. No Veretian would bat an eye. Laurent could fuck a pet in front of them and they would simply praise the pet. 

Nikri was on the hunt for treats, but Damen couldn’t move. They /hadn’t/ discussed it. Nikandros was right. Laurent could hurt him without meaning to. Easily, just because their cultures were so different, and they had not been away from each other for long at all. So he just stood there gaping for a long moment, visualizing all of the times he had seen Laurent whispering in another man’s ear, smiling and flirting and teasing. 

“I love you,” Damen said in Veretian, willing his voice not to shake. “And I—“

He cut himself off, swallowing hard. He had no idea how to start this conversation. Laurent standing there with their horses was making his chest fill with so much love for that soft look on Laurent’s face, the gentle smile on his lips as his mare nibbled at the cuff of his sleeve. The last thing he wanted to do was fight. 

“I am not well versed in Veretian culture, even though I have been your slave. I do not know the workings of Arles, nor have I seen you handle Veretian courts as king. I know you, and I know your love for me, your care.” He crossed the distance between them, gently taking Laurent at the hip and turning him. Those blue eyes would be the death of him, Damen could refuse nothing when Laurent had those beautiful eyes on him. 

“There are /differences/ in our cultures, Laurent. Differences we have not had to discuss because we have always been together to see them.” He lifted a hand to Laurent’s face, thumbing his cheek. “I hope it is clear that even without the impending changes to slavery, I would never lay with a slave. When I travel I will have squires attend me or I will do it myself, I will politely refuse any offers of slaves or pets or anything else.”

He swallowed hard. “In Akielos, they will respect my decision, no matter what they think of us. My father had his mistress as he had my mother. It was known, just as it will be known that I am only for you. And I…I know you would never bed anyone else but I also know how things are done in Vere…”

He looked away. 

“I just wish to know what I should expect,” he said slowly around the lump in his throat. “And I am sorry to bring this up now, but I cannot bear to hear it from someone else."

* * *

In their chambers, they had discussed this already, but then, it had been Laurent questioning Damen’s culture, Damen’s virility. They had dismissed this easily, moved on from it. Laurent supposed Damen /had/ hinted at his worries of Laurent taking a pet in Vere, but again, they had moved past it.

“Nikandros.” It was a statement without question. In the few moments they’d been apart, this had been seeded into Damen’s head, and there was no question as to who had done it. Nikandros meant for the best, but Laurent could have done without /this/ being the discussion they had on the way out.

But Laurent couldn’t be /too/ angry about it all. Damen only addressed it because of his love for Laurent.

“I hate slaves, and I hate pets,” Laurent reminded Damen. “I only kept you to—“ Damen knew that bit, didn’t need Laurent to voice it. 

What he /did/ need to voice was just /who/ Damen was with, in case he had forgotten. Laurent was famously the ‘cast iron bitch,’ the frigid prince that bedded no one. Yes, he had used his body to turn a few tides, and Damen was absolutely right to think he might do it again, but he would /never/ follow through with it. He had no eyes for any other as he did for Damen.

And perhaps it did hurt a bit to have that forgotten.

He squashed that thought before it could become anything more. 

“You’ve forgotten me already,” Laurent murmured, his voice with a certain distance to it. “If you are worried that I will lay with another, than you are more unversed with me than you are with my culture.”

Slaves were normal. Pets were normal. Vere was filled with pleasure seekers and voyeurs, people who would make their political changes an absolute nightmare to pass, but Laurent had hardly ever been one of them. Damen had at least seen that. In their time together, Damen—

Had seen Lord Torvald.

“I only /laid/ with /you/ for political gain,” Laurent reminded Damen, not coldly, but not especially fondly in this moment. “And you know that is not all it was for. You never truly believed me when I tried to tell you it was. I am not like my kingdom in that matter, and you—“

He squashed something else inside of him, continued on in a tone much more suited to his courtiers.

“I will he tended to by servants. Pets /will/ vie for me. Slaves will as well. I will not keep them. I do not want them.” Laurent pulled his sleeve away from Nikri. “But if there is something to be gained by giving the illusion that one might be able to bed me,” Laurent started again, as he knew just what moments had supplied Damen with this worry outside of Nikandros, “I will give that illusion.”

And it shouldn’t /bother/ Damen, for he should /know/ Laurent only loved him, only had eyes for /him/. 

He had wondered earlier what manner of man Damen might be when he returned from the months apart, and he was receiving quite an image of it early on. 

“There. Now you know what to expect.” 

* * *

“Yes, Nikandros,” Damen admitted. he didn’t want to do this any more than Laurent did, but it needed to be discussed. Rumors flew, and anyone on Damen’s side of things who didn’t like Laurent would be quick to feed him stories of Laurent entertaining visiting nobles, doing things Damen would not approve of. But he did understand Laurent had a different way of doing things, and he knew that Laurent wouldn’t fall in love with anyone else. He knew that. 

“I am not worried you will lay with someone else,” Damen was quick to correct. _You don’t even particularly want to lay with me,_ he wanted to add, but didn’t. Laurent was Laurent, and Damen loved him with all of his being. Not bedding each other constantly gave them room to develop their relationship in a way he had never previously known. 

_“Friends. Is that what we are?”_

Damen was stung with unexpected hurt, both at Laurent’s emotionless tone and the rather cruel truth—a truth he didn’t believe. Laurent hadn’t made love to him that night because of political gain. Damen refused to believe that was any part of it. More so, he remembered the ruthless way Laurent had said he had suffered through his affections, trying to make Damen believe it had all been a game. 

It was if he’d been slapped across the face. And now he knew every waking moment he would be wondering just how far that illusion would travel. Never to bed, he knew, but would the court? He could easily see Laurent wandering off with a visiting beauty, allowing the courts to think Laurent might claim someone else, only for Laurent to slip away at the last moment. After warm whispers, fingers twirling at long hair, blushing at attempts to court him (because until they were married, there was no real tie to Damianos). 

“I have not forgotten you,” Damen finally said. “Nor do I think you would ever be untrue to me, or seek to hurt me in that way.”

Nikri was snuffling at his cloak, trying to see now if he could coax something out of Damen, oblivious to the conversation at hand. Damen knew he could not change Laurent, and especially not from all the way in Ios. 

“I will not give any illusions for any reason,” Damen murmured. “So if you hear rumors, they are false. I will assume that whatever I hear, your feelings have not changed.” But he would listen, and he knew his nightmares would be plagued with images of Laurent allowing the masses to think otherwise. He had to trust. He had to. 

“And I—“

Nikri evidently decided that he had had enough with the waiting, and in one quick motion had pinned his ears and sank his teeth into Damen’s arm, right above the elbow. 

Damen let out a yelp of pain and surprise, wrenching his arm back. Nikri—having made his point clear—whipped his head up, looking down at Damen and tossing his head with a high pitched squeal. 

Damen grit his teeth, advancing on the stall. Nikri all but stumbled backward, dancing on his hooves and continuing to throw his head. Damianos would not beat his horses, but he was awfully tempted in that moment. 

Crimson began to leak from the bite, but he had been bitten by horses plenty of times in his life, and this was far from the worst. His first pony liked to use him as a chew stick during the worst possible moments. 

“That,” Damen snarled, still leering at Nikri. “Is why you do not feed him treats unless he has _earned_ them.”

“Exalteds!” A guard came rushing into the stables, sword drawn. 

“Leave us,” Damen demanded, inspecting his wound. “It was only my horse."

* * *

“You will /assume/—“ Laurent asked, and it was a cold tone he took on, hiding his affront with anger. He would /assume/, despite knowing damn well Laurent would never—

Laurent noticed the change in Nikri at the last second, but the horse was so fast and efficient that it just.../happened/. Laurent didn’t even let shock or surprise cross his face, though his eyebrows did go straight up. Especially when Damen accused this of being /his/ fault!

“If you think that was not deserved...” Laurent started coolly, crossing over to Nikri’s stall and pulling out a cube, shushing him and coaxing him forward. When Nikri came near, he took hold of his muzzle and scolded him softly in Veretian, his anger with Damen not bleeding into his interaction of the horse. 

Yes, Laurent knew how to properly train a horse. He knew that, if done enough, Nikri would see biting Damen as an action deserving of a reward.

And right now, Laurent was fine with that. 

He took a glance over at his seething beloved, and he couldn’t help but let out a chuckle, especially as the servants went retreating in their fear. Damen could be quite imposing, but when it came down to it, he’d just been bitten by his own horse.

He could be /so/ ridiculous.

And Laurent loved him for it. Yes, he was still /quite/ cross about Damen’s worries, to think he would assume anything of Laurent, but...Laurent was growing. He understood where that worry came from.

“I love you,” Laurent told him, still holding Nikri still and calm. “And I will /assume/ you don’t believe you deserved that.” 

* * *

Damen investigated his wound, flexing his arm to see how deep Nikri’s teeth had gone. There was a dull pain, but nothing worse than when training swords nicked him. Nikandros would surely think this was some sort of planned attack by Laurent, but just one look at Nikri proved to Damen that he had Laurent wrapped around his finger. Damn horse. And Laurent was giving more more sugar!

He was still looking over his wound when Laurent spoke to him again. Damen looked up at him, and his hurt returned. Getting into any sort of verbal argument with Laurent of Vere was a lost cause, but Damen usually felt influential—he was probably the only person who could convince him of a different (more effective) plan. But he hated feeling powerless, and Laurent made him feel that way now. Anything he said was twisted against him, when Damen was only trying to convey his worry. He didn’t want to fight. He /loved/ Laurent. 

“I didn’t deserve that,” Damen growled back, holding his cloak away from the blood so as to avoid staining it unnecessarily. “And I love you too.”

That was what it all came down to. 

He moved behind Laurent, his anger still simmering, but quickly fading as he wrapped his arms around his beloved from behind, pressing a kiss to his temple. This was now how he wanted to part from Laurent, but—

“Beast!” Damen hissed as Nikri pinned his ears, preparing to take another bite. Damen swatted and Nikri lifted his head again, tossing it as he turned in his stall, heading toward his trough. 

“I may have a new mount by the time you return,” Damen muttered, kissing Laurent’s hair this time. “Shall we make sure your caravan is ready, or do you wish to argue further?"

* * *

“I do love to argue with you,” Laurent murmured, letting Nikri go to give his betrothed his attention. The sweet kisses were kind, but it seemed they would not be /resolving/ this issue anytime soon. 

Laurent looked over the wound, held Damen’s cloak out of the way and swiped at it. It was shallow - just a nick, a cut-tooth pinch. Perhaps they should see Paschal, just to get this wrapped so Damen would have to /explain/ it all, but Laurent was sure it would stop bleeding by the time they made it him.

“You know,” Laurent started as they made their way out of the stables and towards Laurent’s caravan, “You /could/ learn Veretian culture. If you took the time to visit Vere. I cannot name when you last crossed the border.”

A border that would soon no longer exist.

They were greeted in the common Veretian bow as they crossed Laurent’s men, servants, /pets/. Lucien was racking his master’s horse - a task usually reserved for slaves in Vere. This was a classic case of what Laurent had explained to Damen when they decided to rid of slavery in their united kingdom. Slaves were being given gifts and different name, but kept all the same. 

Lucien was dressed in Akielon garb.

“Your majesty,” Jord greeted to Laurent, and then in Akielon, “Exalted,” to Damen. “We will be ready to depart in mere moments.”

“My mount has not been readied,” Laurent noted, looking over his guard. “And that pet is hardly dressed for the journey. Tell Councillor Mathe his pet will blister in such poor coverage.” 

“He insists it is for comfort,” Jord explained, to which Laurent instantly sneered:

“He is to be more comfortable than the king?” Jord quieted, looking to Damen for a moment. He was not sure if Laurent was insulting Akielos right now. “Have him changed.”

* * *

“Yes, and last time I was across the border I had a collar around my neck. Last time I was in Arles I had a gold leash, too,” Damen said bitterly. He couldn’t believe Laurent would imply he was doing something wrong by not going there after he had been a /slave/. Akielos was horrified to learn the truth, and more than a few thought Laurent had him as nothing more than a slave puppet. Damen had to be careful in front of the kyroi and the nobles, because affection and submission could easily be confused. 

Upon seeing Lucien, Damen was rather pleased. Cultures starting to mix was the purpose for this gathering, and something that would take adjusting to, but—

Well, it seemed that cultures would not yet be mixing in Arles. Damen caught Jord’s eyes for a moment, but kept his face schooled. Damianos had no authority over Laurent’s guard and caravan. If Laurent didn’t want Lucien in a chiton, then he wouldn’t wear one. Damen wasn’t exactly opposed to that either, as Lucien looked rather attractive in it, and last night’s little comment about Lucien’s rubies was still echoing in Damen’s mind, along with all of the things Laurent had just said to him that still had not been salved. 

Jord went off to do as told and Damen let out a quiet sigh. 

“If you truly want me to come to Arles before our union, I will,” Damen said quietly, clearly not fond of the idea. He busied himself picking the already dried blood from his arm. “But I will not be going anywhere near my old cell—“ Because that is what it was, not his chambers. “—and if anyone speaks to me and so much as mentions my enslavement, I will tie a gold chain around their neck and kill them without mercy.”

He was not joking.

* * *

“Well, I’ve a whip with your name on it,” Laurent said snidely, perhaps not totally over their earlier discourse. Damen’s attitude certainly wasn’t helping, but neither was being in front of his men. “You can deal with them as you wish— Loosen that saddle, Armond,” Laurent ordered suddenly, stopping in his tracks to address his men. “Lest you wish to be trussed as your mount is.”

Laurent’s mood was going foul, but...that wasn’t new. He knew his men had thoughts of him with Damen. Those who did not respect Damen, those who saw him as slave, thought equally low of Laurent for lying beneath him, for giving over to him - an Akielon dog. Laurent had to keep command, had to let them think this was who he was at all times. Harsh, cold, untouchable.

And it was only /then/ that Laurent had realised what he’d said to Damen.

He cleared his throat, dipped his head for a moment, looking down to the ground before bringing his eyes back up, tilting his chin.

He was pushing. 

He still had not fully accepted they would be months apart, and when Damen had forgotten him, though Damen said he had not, Laurent took that to heart. Now, they were about to depart with Damen not wanting to see the half of the kingdom that Laurent brought, the half that even Laurent did not want to turn to! Laurent’s relationship with Vere was...tumultuous at best. It’s lack of a king and his uncles hold on it had left it in a state Laurent would continue to lose sleep over.

Auguste would have known what to do. He would have helped Laurent fix it, or— well, Laurent would have helped /him/.

“I understand your hesitation in returning to Arles,” Laurent started again, diplomatically. “But they will be your people, Damianos. And you should know them.” 

* * *

Damen flinched the moment Laurent spoke of the whip. He wanted to say he already had one, the golden whip Laurent had gifted to him during their uneasy time at war. Laurent has been so distant from him then, and where this morning they had felt as close as ever, now it seemed closer to the time in the war camp. The marks of his flogging were his damnation in Akielos, earning him pity, disgust, or the worst: rage toward Laurent. The scars had healed well, but Damen has noticed that the muscle underneath became sore more easily, and if he did not treat himself carefully after hard training it grew worse.

In his silence he watched Laurent, and his time as a slave returned to him. His father always advised him to listen before he spoke (advice he seldom took) but observing Laurent showed him something that his words could not.

The past months together had allowed Laurent to be happier, more carefree. He was amused more than sour, smiling more than strict. But now Damen could see him lacing /himself/ back up, tight and taut, and the youthful warmth of his presence had turned cold once more. The last time Damianos had seen it was right after he had started limping around his chambers and Laurent had ferociously gone after Nikandros for trying to stay with Damen on his own.

Laurent acted like this when he felt alone. It was as close as he came to fear in the face of insurmountable odds.

“You’re right,” Damen said, his voice even now, not angry. “After the last summer harvest, I will come to Arles.” About two months from now, most likely.

“Laurent,” he said, taking Laurent’s hand in his own. He wanted his attention, his full attention. “We will do this together. You have me, and the whole of Akielos behind you. If you would feel safer, I can send Aktis to serve with Jord until my arrival. And you should write me of whatever concerns you, and we will face it as one.”

He wished they could go back to the stables, someplace quiet where Damen could soothe his betrothed in other ways.

“I have decided I will not be leaving until I see you smile again,” Damen said with a soft smile of his own. “I will not have my last sight of you be so unlike the Laurent who has been with me these past weeks.”

* * *

Laurent wanted to argue on that he was still very much himself, very much the man Damen /had/ been with these past few weeks—

But he swallowed that down and gave a little nod.

There were eyes on them at every angle, as there always were whenever they showed any but of affection towards one another. Not only were they two rulers showing something of their intimacy, they were two /kings/. They were two kings from once-warring kingdoms. They were two kings of Akielon and Vere. They were Damianos and Laurent. It was a sight to behold, the two of them doing anything together! There would always be eyes, always be thoughts, always be /rumours/.

“Arles will welcome you,” Laurent promised Damen, and there was a crack of warmth there, like finding a sliver of sunlight peeking through thick, quilted curtains meant to keep the cold of winter out. Laurent squeezed Damen’s hands, but he would not smile. Last time he had done that, he’d actually heard someone gasp aloud.

Not to mention Laurent still was not /happy/ with Damen’s impending departure.

“Your majesty...” Lucien stepped up, in his hands the reins to Ven. She nickered at her master as Laurent turned, his hand slipping from Damen’s to take them. Lucien was dressed more practically now, his skin covered as Laurent’s was, but with /much/ less lacing. Laurent dismissed Lucien who tucked tail and returned to—

Mathe. And the others. All ready and waiting.

Laurent turned back to Damen, a heavy, molten feeling in his heart that he extinguished as quickly as he could.

“/You/ may decide not to leave, but it appears I must,” Laurent told him, something like an apology in his tone. “But my smile will be awaiting in Arles. Just for you. And /only/ for you, Damianos.”

And he leaned in to kiss his beloved, hoping that perhaps those words would quell whatever had happened to them those mere moments ago. But it was all Laurent could comfortably do now.

The kiss was chaste, over before it had barely begun, and Laurent had pulled away. He stepped up into the stirrup, threw his leg over his mount and pulled her to turn her in a circle, back to face Damen below him. 

“Until the end of summer harvest, Damianos,” Laurent said aloud, knowing he had the attention of his men and all those around. The kiss had enraptured their attentions, for good and for bad. Laurent had their focus, had an audience - had a chance to plant a seed that would spread into a legacy in just a month. 

“Your kingdom awaits you in Arles.”

* * *

It wasn’t a smile, but it was something. Damen wanted to stick to his original decision, to do something so ridiculous Laurent /had/ to smile, but he didn’t. Any hope they had for the departure Damen wanted had been dashed in the stables, leaving him hurt and confused, and still feeling in the wrong despite his desire to simply…prevent exactly this. 

Lucien brought Laurent’s mare, and Damen tried his best not to look as crestfallen as he felt. He instinctively leaned into the kiss, and was left blinking like an idiot when Laurent had pulled away. That was /not/ the kiss he had envisioned in saying goodbye. Damen almost openly protested, but then Laurent was mounted and riding off. 

He almost thought Laurent wouldn’t turn around, that he would ignore Damianos as he had when he had come back after being freed. Instead, he was spoken to almost as if he meant nothing more than his title, though obviously Laurent had just shown he was much more than that. 

He dipped his head respectfully. “Until then, Laurent.” 

The caravan started moving, and Damen wasted no time returning to the stables to find Nikri tacked and ready. He led his mount out into the now bustling area outside the palace, where Nikandros stood impatiently beside his gelding. 

“That bad?” Nikandros said quietly when Damen said nothing to him. 

“We’re not going to speak of it,” Damen said, allowing the sadness in his voice to be heard. “He is gone. I am going to Arles at the end of the harvest.”

“You’re what?!?” Nikandros hissed. 

“Vere will be my kingdom, just as Akielos will be Laurent’s. I think it is fair to say he has spent more than enough time in Ios, and I have spent little time in Arles.”

“Where you were /enslaved/ by him,” Nikandros growled. “I intend to speak to you about this when we return to Ios.”

“Excuse me?”

“As Kyros of Ios, yes, I intend to speak to my King about his intended departure from Ios to Arles,” Nikandros said. 

Damen shot him a look, then mounted his horse. “Fine. We will speak of it there.”

***** 

With both caravans departing, the entrance to Marlas was a mess of celebrations. Damen waved the the crowds with a jovial smile, scanning for Laurent every so often. He couldn’t see anything where he was behind the ornate wagons.

“The boy is asleep in one of our wagons,” Nikandros informed Damen as he trotted up beside him. “Aktis is watching him, and when you are ready, I have the messenger prepared.”

Damen shifted in his saddle, quickly opening one of his saddle bags and pulling out a letter. One he had written while they waited for Aktis to round up Korus, who proved to be unwilling to go to Ios, as expected. Even if he wasn’t there to see it, he wanted to attempt to make Laurent smile. And he wanted to give him something to have on his journey back to a place that held painful memories for him. 

He held out the letter. “Send the messenger.”

A streak of chestnut cut over the meadows outside Marlas, a rider who had no idea what his message was, just that it was to be given to the King of Vere, /urgently./ 

“Exalted!” The messenger called, his chestnut mare panting, but not eager to slow. He pulled her up near Laurent, extending the letter to Jord. 

“A message from Nikandros, Kryos of Ios, Exalted,” the messenger panted. “For you to open immediately.”

Inside was a simple piece of parchment, written on with a piece of graphite used for drawing up crude battle plans. And, in Akielon:

_You will be happy to know Nikri bit me a second time, this one in the leg. Thankfully I was protected. Hopefully I will not be too marred by the time I see you next._

_I love you. And next time I kiss you, I will_ _not_ _be chaste._

_Safe riding, my love._

* * *

Departing Marlas was an /affair/. Laurent rode straight-backed and proud, focusing as he could on the path ahead. His thoughts silenced the world around him, left him unfazed to the calls of the Veretians in the crowd, the flowers thrown for him in adoration. Laurent knew better than to think this was a special act done just for him. This was just tradition. He was sure half of those celebrating his exit were just happy he would be gone.

Jord rose up alongside him, effectively blocking anything that might hit Laurent. The king had a look about him that said he might snap if something hit him right now, and he knew Jord didn’t want to see this trip become any more difficult than it needed to be. Laurent’s foul moods had a way of seeping into the morale of the men - mainly because Laurent took it out on them - and the less that happened, the quicker they returned home to Arles. Laurent trusted him in his position as captain, which said a lot about them after when had happened with Aimerick.

But there was only so much Jord was actively able to stop.

“Your majesty.” Laurent and Jord turned as Councillor Mathe atop his poorly kept horse galloped forward, coming up alongside Laurent, too far and fast for Jord to stop. “Your majesty! The boy. Your uncle’s boy—“

Laurent’s jaw set, his eyes kept straight and forward.

“I’ve looked in the carts, atop the horses, and he is nowhere to be found.” Mathe sounded genuinely worried, but Laurent knew it was a despair rooted in hedonism.

“I sold him,” Laurent said cooly, chin tilted upward, daring the councillor to object. “An Akielon offered a high price for him, and I let them have him.”

“An /Akielon/?” Mathe gawked, flicking his wrist and giving his horse a little dig with his heels to keep up with Laurent. “But he belonged to the /Regent/ of Vere,” Mathe pointed out. “He is frail. Soft! He is not meant for the hands of an /Akielon/.”

“Explain to me why that is,” Laurent insisted, the culmination of the day starting to come to a head. “Tell me why the pet of my uncle is too good for those we would welcome into an alliance, Councillor.”

Silence.

“I would hear your answer,” Laurent pushed on, and Jord caught onto the danger here. Laurent /would/ stop this caravan and have his own councillor punished here, in the crowd, without a doubt. Jord cleared his throat, tried to distract from the conversation. “Councillor, I am /listening/,” Laurent hissed, low and dangerous. 

Mathe did not answer.

Laurent leaned back in his saddle, eyebrow piqued when his councillor stayed absolutely silent.

“A compelling argument,” Laurent noted humourlessly when Mathe set his own jaw, cast his eyes down to his horse, wise enough not to press the king when he was in this mood. “I quite like this side of you, Councillor. Perhaps I will have your tongue removed so that I may hear an argument like this again.”

Mathe fell back, and Laurent couldn’t say what face he made in doing so.

He had truly wanted Mathe to argue.

“Exalted!”

Oh, what now?

Laurent peered over as Jord received the letter from the messenger, held out his hand when Jord offered it over. He tried not to look /too/ desperate when he opened it, and to anyone aside from Damen, Laurent would have looked indifferent. For the one man that knew him, they would have caught reverie, /hope/. Laurent was barely twenty minutes out, and already, he was seeing the cracks in his and Damen’s mission. 

He read the letter, his face blank as he took in Damen’s handwriting. It was...legible, but clearly rushed. It took Laurent a moment to translate the Akielon language when written, and when he finished it, he found the strength to /breathe/.

It was just a month. No matter Vere could give him would take that from his mind. Soon, he and Damen would be back together, and they would do things /better/. They would face this all together. They wouldn’t rush, would take their time and learn each other’s cultures, talk about their policies, discuss how to rid of those like Mathe who crossed them.

And then, they could be together. Laurent would smile for Damen all night, would let his lover kiss him as deeply and passionately for as long as he wanted. He would have Laurent, they would talk. They would share their bed, the evening, the morning. They would plan as they needed to, and keep each other grounded in the time surrounding.

Writing on the back of a horse was no easy feat, but Laurent’s message was just short enough that he made it look effortless. 

_Wear more befitting armour._

_Give Nikri apples._

_Do not forget my heart._

_LR_


	5. Part II: Arles (5.1.20)

For Damen, he was not pleased to find that being parted from Laurent was not as torturous as he had envisioned because things were so busy. Navigating the political climate in Ios over the past year hadn’t seemed difficult with Laurent by his side, but now that Laurent was gone, true feelings came out in overwhelming abundance. The kyroi did not like his relationship with Laurent no matter what it did for the economy, because each time Damianos removed his cloak to participate in their cultural events, there was a mark that Laurent had made, a glaring symbol of submission on their king. 

But worst of all was the fury over slavery. Slave trade had already been banned, and upon return from Marlas, several Akielon royalty had bought pets to show off. But outside the wealthy, others did not want pets. They wanted workers and free labor to continue making their money. Damen heard orator after orator explaining why this would be detrimental to the economy, but he would hear none of it, though he sat there and pretended to. 

Writing to Laurent was his only normalcy. 

_Laurent,_

_We arrived safely in Ios, and it is good to be home. Though I do find myself waiting up for you in my chambers, fully expecting you to come in demanding to be attended. I would make some quip about being king, you would start unlacing yourself in the most sensual way you could muster, and I would be taking back my words in a moment, fingers on your laces. At least, that is how I see it in my head._

_Korus is a handful. He is unruly and crafty, unsure of his place here. Aktis watches over him and seems to have taken something of a liking to the boy, though most often it seems he wants to smack him. I have started him in training, with myself, Aktis, and Pallas. He is soft, with little natural talent for the blade. He despises it, but despises being smacked with a wooden sword even more. With hard work he may become an acceptable swordsman to be put in proper training with the other boys._

_I am keeping him from Jokaste. I fear putting them too close together would not be wise, even if I wish for Cosmas to have someone to play with. I have taken him to the gardens a few times now, and it is difficult for me. I see my father in him, and my brother. He is an adventurous child, and loving._

_The matter of slavery continues to plague my days. I am working on it, and I have started talking with Nikandros about what should be moved to Marlas and when. Outside of politics, things are well here, trade is blooming, and the fields beyond the palace are brimming with crops. This will be a good year for Ios._

_I hope you are well. I miss you terribly, and I keep your note in plain sight so I can look at it often when I am writing at my desk. I spend far too often here, now. My father did not make it seem as though I would be stooped over with parchment most days, but here I am._

_I would kiss you if I were able and run my fingers through your hair. I think of you constantly, and I do hope you are taking care of yourself properly. Sleep, my love. Be rested, even if it feels detrimental. I will be there soon._

_DV_

* * *

There had been a sort of widespread hope that, while he was away, the King of Vere would have softened under the weight of love and adoration. There had been rumours spread, as there so often were, that he had spent his every day in Marlas under the Princekiller of Akielon, and if anyone could fuck the chill out of his blood, it was Damianos. He had bested one prince before.

Of course, nothing about Laurent had changed. In their eyes, he was as course, curt, cold, and cruel as he had always been. The only reprieve for them came in the fact that he was almost /always/ locked away in his chambers or attending private court. Sightings of him were rare, and though the people of Vere had been told a great change was coming, they didn’t see it. They only saw their cast iron king, every once and while ghosting through the halls.

Laurent’s entire life had become /rumours/ again.

And there was room to talk. Laurent hardly ever left his rooms, and if anyone did see him, it was as if he were a ghost, stalking through the gardens at night, taking the winding path to where the statue of Auguste stood, leaning, looking nothing as resplendent as his brother ever had. 

No one dared to look into what he did there.

Laurent was most often see by his closest confidantes sitting in an uncomfortable wood back chair, legs tucked under him, head in his hand as he pored over his own piles of parchment, too busy - and truly too discouraged - to write a thing to Damen.

Vere did not take the Akielon king seriously. Not after how Laurent had had him seen. Remarks were made as to how Laurent could only make a slave love him through order alone, so they still saw Damen as weak, as powerless, as a joke of a king.

And they didn’t see Laurent as anything better.

Laurent had not gone easy on them in his first decrees, and he nearly thought he’d lose his whole council to his and Damen’a decision on slavery. He’d brought forth new rules, new guidelines, for both slaves and pets, and he felt himself lose a thread of respect and trust in the already unravelling tie he had to his own council. He was reminded that he would not have his beloved if it weren’t for slavery, and that he did not seem to take issue with it when he had the king of Akielon in chains and paint, and Laurent kept his cool despite the sick feeling in his gut.

Of course, /some/ did see him as a king, and Damen as well. More than perhaps Laurent’s mood would let him see! They exalted them both, and in some villages, he heard stories of the starburst lion crest the people flew. Mostly farmers, traders, the working people who knew of Akielon’s budding trade and crop, who knew the benefits of the union. The balance Laurent sought was there, but tipping the scales had proven to be far more difficult than he—

It had proven /exactly/ as difficult as Laurent thought it would.

Vere’s nobility were a poison, and Laurent was taking it into his veins every day.

“Perhaps equality could be sought if you allowed /him/ to flay /you/ on the cross,” Councillor Haris offered up in one of the court’s meetings.

* * *

It was the third week that Laurent finally sent a letter to Ios, finally found the time to think of Damen and just accept the hurt and emptiness in missing him.

Laurent’s letters, as perhaps to be expected, were as short and clipped as he could be in a bad mood, and he’d yet to be lifted from one since his return to Arles. 

_Damen,_

_I long for a moment out of these clothes, to feel the warmth of your touch, to feel once again unbound. Bring your sword in and cut them off me if you must, for I will not be patient when I see you next_.

He should have kissed Damen more, and for much, much longer.

_Korus is of Vere. You will learn that his craftiness and unruliness await you here in Arles in droves._

Laurent found himself just as bitter writing about Vere as he did of reading about Cosmas. Cosmas, who Damen was raising, going soft for. It would confuse the boy as he grew, and it would be a problem. They should have given him to Vask, could have given him to Loyse to raise as Veretian, as a no one. The boy would be trouble.

Laurent added it to the list of things to talk about when he had Damen next, and he would not shy from it.

_Our definitions of ‘soon’ are vastly different._

_LR_

* * *

It didn’t take long for the rumors to reach Ios. A visiting merchant of Vere—ridiculously rich—had spoken to Nikandros at a royal dinner. Damen had been bored out of his skull entertaining the visiting party until the topic of Laurent had come up. The merchant talked of the King of Vere taking up isolation, holding only private audiences. He was being called the Ghost King. Nikandros coaxed more from him, fully aware Damianos was listening. 

His letter arrived the next day, and it was much too short for a man closing himself off from the world. Damen could not understand Laurent’s reasoning. Keeping himself locked away would do nothing to help further their efforts. It didn’t seem like Laurent either, which worried him greatly. Damen had written two more love letters to his betrothed in the time it had taken for Laurent to write one. 

_Laurent,_

_I have heard you are not being seen in public. I do not know why, but it worries me greatly. Is something wrong? I will be there soon, and I intend to be very public during my visit._ _We_ _will be very public during my visit._

He could not imagine Vere at the end of summer, already growing cold. but he knew what Laurent would look like, laced up tightly, eyes like ice, demeanor colder. 

_I know I do not know the workings of Vere as you do, but I do know people. Swaying the populace is more important than swaying kyroi or councillors. You cannot do that if you are hiding away, my love. No one is coming for your life as the Regent did. Your people may fear you, but we both know fear is not loyalty. I followed you to what we thought would be a war with my own kingdom—that man is who reigns over Vere, whom they should see._

He knew he was little respected in Vere, but Damen had plans to remedy that during his visit. His sources had told him of the adoration of those in more rural areas, and he also knew the wealth of the nobles came from those areas, as it did in Ios. 

_You always have my adoration and support. I am simply saying perhaps old tactics are not as effective as they once were._

Damen looked up from his parchment as his squire informed him that it was time to train with Korus. He dismissed it, no longer needing the mental preparation that he had needed to train with a boy who was nothing but rage. Korus paid attention now, and was proving to be a better pupil than Damen had originally thought. 

_I love you. I wish I could be there. Let me know what I may to to help._

_Yours always,_

_DV_

There was a change in Damen after his letter was handed off. His smile was less present, plagued by thoughts of Laurent alone and isolating himself. He asked Nikandros about when they could depart for Vere, but Nikandros was firm about waiting until the final harvest. 

Nikandros had not told Damen all he had heard. Nor had he told him about the pot of gold paint that had arrived in an unmarked box along with merchant shipments, simply addressed to “Damen.” Nikandros knew enough about Vere to know what that paint was for. 

His note was a simple addition to Damen’s letter:

_Exalted,_

_Received a pot of paint. As we do not need it here, I am returning it to your kingdom._

_He does not know it arrived. I suggest keeping it that way until he is in Arles._

He did not sign it, but simply stamped the wax with his crest. 

* * *

The letters were received in the garden on one of Laurent’s many visits. Jord had been told to always bring the letter straight to Laurent, no matter where he was, or what he was doing. 

Laurent read them in the shade of Auguste’s statue, where he’d taken to doing much of his work, even as the days grew colder and and the final harvest drew nearer. 

Laurent looked forward to it - to the days where the sun rose and fell in cropped hours, to the nights where snow fell from the sky and blanketed Arles in something so clean, so pure, it felt /wrong/ - for those would be the days where Damen was by his side again, when things would feel /right/ again.

But how foolish Laurent had been to think that so.

The letter felt like a physical blow, and Laurent was taken with a rage that crossed before Jord had even fully exited the garden. 

Damen had made a point in their final night in Marlas, wrapped up in bed together, when Laurent had asked him to come back to Arles the first time. He’d made a point that Laurent should have put more stock in. Damen had stated so clearly that he should not return to Arles until Laurent had established himself, and Laurent had not listened. He’d been so hung up on his own selfish desires that he’d been blinded, oblivious to the fact that Damen had been /right/. Laurent could get that way - headstrong and obstinate. It would not be the first time that Damen had had to break him of it. He had decided too early that Damen needed to return, needed to come back to him in Arles, but...that was presenting itself as a terrible idea.

Laurent had not yet been able to grasp at being /King/. He was a natural leader, wise and skilled beyond his years and experience, but that did not make up for the rarer aspects of their union. Laurent’s rise to the throne had, in itself, been an unfashionable journey, had almost not come to fruition many times. He had a lot to make up for, a lot to handle. His isolation was not self-inflicted. It was due to the /many/ issues that came with his ascension, the many political issues that came with his beloved. Laurent was putting out a thousand fires at once, and unlike Auguste, his uncle, his /father/, he did not have the strength of support he needed to /help/ him. He’d wanted Damen to be that person, wanted him to help him make /good/ of all of this. Laurent had a will to just tell his people how things would be, and he would dole out the punishments as needed.

But that wasn’t realistic.

It wasn’t kind.

It wasn’t just.

Damen had told him he needed to earn the respect of his people, needed to find his place in Vere in the throne before Damen showed his face there again.

And he was right.

Laurent had to learn to do this alone.

And his first outing in weeks was a public flogging of the man that had sent that paint to Ios.

Damen had said in his letter that no one was coming for Laurent as the Regent had, but Damen was wrong. Vere /was/ the Regent, it was the legacy he’d left behind. And Laurent had to shape that into his own, he had to make it so Vere was /his/.

The culprit of the paint act was not difficult to track. The thing about Veretian nobles was that many of them were not versed in trade, did not have to be. They asked for items, and the received them. Laurent had gone out into the town himself, his guard in tow, thrown open the merchant’s doors and demanded his ledgers. The merchant, of course, confessed to the crime, but Laurent knew better. 

It took seven documents to trace back before Laurent found the man - a friend of the late Aimerick, close to the line of Guillone. A young man, yes, but one just at Laurent’s age. The anger in the young man - Achlen, was his name - was not unfounded.

But then again, neither was Laurent’s.

Laurent flayed the man until blood spit from the whip, ripping the man’s skin open, and a squire had to step forward to clear the splatter from his king’s face. 

Laurent remained calm throughout it all, and he he was finished, he handed over the whip, removed his gloves, and left.

He’d made one point there in the field, instant and clear, but now he would have to make another that would, unfortunately, be a few days in transit before it could be set.

Protecting Damen was something Laurent /would/ do, even at the cost of his own comfort. There were steps Laurent had to take to help this union in the future, and though they would be as unpleasant as the ones he’d had to improvise when he’d found himself in a chair facing Govart, he would survive. It would work out for him. Laurent was a product of his country, cunning and unruly. 

With his wine at his side, Laurent wrote his belated reply to his betrothed.

_Damianos_ ,

_Do not come to Arles._

_When our union is finalised, and you are by my side, our agency will be imitable. For now, I need more time. My uncle left quite the mess that I now have to lay the stepping stones for change over, and I cannot have your distractions. As much as I long for them._

_Where I will not say it often, you were correct. I have respect to gain still among my people. The populace are not the ones that give me pause - it is those inside my own house._

_You will do yourself well to remember that Vere is run by its elite. I know you do not understand much of our culture, but that is key among all else._

_This is something I hope to rectify._

_Though I dread to add the days, I say again: Do not come to Arles. And that is an order, Damianos._

_Trust me as you now can. Know that I am protected, I am well, and I am competent in this._

_Above all else, know that I miss you dearly, and I look forward to the day where you are mine in the eyes of all._

_I will see you again in Marlas._

_I love you._

_LR_

Lucien took the letter from Laurent the next morning, just as the King was passing into the training ring. The pet had been sent there with Laurent’s breakfast, a ‘gift’ sent from the council after Laurent had ‘missed’ their morning meeting to discuss what had happened with young Achlen the night before. 

“Have that sent out immediately,” said Laurent, tying up his hair and checking down the length of his sword for nicks and imperfections. It was still relatively new, unused since his rise to the throne. The hilt bore his crest, the longest ray of the starburst a promise for the sharp point of the blade. “Tell the messenger he should only stop for the handoff.”

And he handed Lucien two gold coins, even stopped to take one of the dangling rubies that hung from Lucien’s ear between his two fingers.

“I will give you another gold coin for this.”

Lucien gave it happily, having thought himself suddenly in favour of the king.

And then, of course, he had to tell his master about it. 

Laurent had made the urgency of the letter clear, had said precisely where it needed to be and when, but Lucien was...not Jord. He was foolish, unfocused...and perhaps Laurent had known that, but he was /improvising/.

So, when Lucien’s master got a hold of that letter, it never went out. Written in Veretian, not in the usual Akielon Laurent preferred for write Damen in, the letter was completely legible for all in his court, even those who did not care to learn Akielon to assist the union. Perhaps it was meant to discredit the king of Vere, to make Damianos think his beloved did not truly care for him, that this was all a ruse, but more likely, it was meant to shake Laurent, to go against his desires and to leave what little control he had distracted and unfocused.

Of course, that was in the vein of thinking that Laurent truly did not want Damen there. 

* * *

“I hate this,” Damen muttered not three weeks later. His worry about Laurent had increased tenfold when he hadn’t gotten a response from him. The moment the summer harvest had ended, Damianos was headed out of the city with a caravan full of Akielos: trinkets, games, horses, clothing, and spices. He intended to flood the Veretian markets, and give away copious amounts of goods to the poor, to drive a taste for Akielon culture in a way that would also drive interest in the rich. 

If the courts of Vere wanted to play, Damen would win. Perhaps not in a traditional way, but in an Akielon way. 

At that moment, he found himself wrapped in a wool cloak, bright red. He’d sent for Charls, had it designed with Veretian customs in mind so that it was a fitting blend of the two. His crown of gold olive branches seemed to be frozen to his skull, and though it wasn’t even the beginnign of winter in Arles, Damen was shivering beneath the cloak, even with fur-lined gloves, fur-lined boots, and a fur and leather skirt traditional to the border in winter months. 

“Exalted, if you are complaining, think of how we all must feel,” Pallas chuckled through chattering teeth. Nikandros was back in Ios, tending to things there, as much as Damen wished he wasn’t. Nikandros had said quite plainly that he would kill someone while he was there, if he went. The coldness in his eyes said he was telling the truth. 

As much as Damianos despised the cold, he was aching to see Laurent. Worried didn’t even begin to describe his current mood, and Damen didn’t think he had ever missed someone so much. He had busied himself being king, with training, with teaching Korus and visiting with Cosmas. But he wanted to see Laurent. 

His breath fogged in front of him as Damianos looked up at the ornate palace of Arles. He couldn’t fight the curl of disdain in his gut for the place and all it had done to him. At least he was here as king, with the adoration of the Veretian countryside he had at least made a start on earning on his way in. 

He had waited almost two months to see his betrothed. Damen’s hair had grown longer, his face more stern, his confidence blistering. His anger /burning./ 

“I suppose it is mealtime for the court?” Damianos asked the attending Veretian who had raced out to greet them. Damen had ridden ahead with Pallas and Lydos for just such a surprise. His caravan was a few hours away yet. Everyone they had come across in Arles has reacted with pure shock upon seeing him.

“Yes, Your Majest—“

“Good. You will come with us and take my horse to the King’s stable once I have dismounted.” He looked over his shoulder. “Lydos! Stay with the horses.” He would not have another poisoned. “Fetch Jord if you can find him, inform him that I have arrived. Pallas, you are to come with me, along with the bannermen, once they are here.”

*****

Damianos knew Arles by heart, unfortunately. He dismounted and headed straight for the gardens, Pallas scrambling after him. He had warned Pallas of the opulence and sexual deviance here, but it was still quite alarming for the poor soldier to find a pet pleasuring his master among the fading greenery, right out in full view. The pet was barely clothed, dripping in paint and jewels, making all sorts of noises. In the cold. Had Damen not been so furious at what lay beyond, he would have bought the boy, freed him, and given him five coats then and there. 

Instead, Damen found his way to the side entrance of the main hall, where the night’s decadent feast was already in full swing. 

Pallas was disgusted by the way the pets were being treated at the table, but he had seen that in Marlas and schooled his face well. 

In fact, everyone was so engrossed in the gossip and debauchery at the table that none noticed Damen’s entrance. 

“What a feast!” Damianos exclaimed, his voice booming, as commanding as it was on the battlefield. Several people jumped, and all eyes turned to him in an instant. “Fit for royalty, indeed.”

Damen plucked off his gloves as he approached the table, rage simmering in his eyes. He was desperate to see Laurent, but protecting him always won out. This had to be tended to, immediately. 

“Your majesty!” one of the councilors yelped, nearly tumbling out of his chair to bow. 

“Oh please, Chelaut,” Damen growled as he advanced. “If I thought you had any regard for me, I would have attempted to speak with you in Marlas. Sit back in your seat—all of you.” He held his gloves out for Pallas, his gold cuff gleaming in the light of the fires. “What, did you not expect to dine with a king this evening?”

The throne was empty, and Damen’s heart hurt at the sight. 

“Exalted--” Mathe attempted to speak, but Damen cut him off with a look of pure fury. 

“It is clear to me that the people of Vere have a very different opinion than the likes of its court,” Damen snarled. “Not a single thing prepared for my arrival, despite having known about it since Marlas. Am I mistaken, or was I not to arrive after the last summer harvest? Three weeks ago, by my count. And you all know of it, as I can see by your plates—gorging on the last of our fruits. Yet I arrived to nothing.”

The hall was silent, no eyes daring to lift from the table. 

“You king is hard at work to ally our kingdoms, and yet you all sit here with your feasts and pet games. So caught up in your mindless gossip that you do not so much as lift your noses when your future king arrives? What if I were an enemy? If I were, you would all be slain.”

He could see it in their eyes, the words they were not saying. That he /was/ an enemy. A slave. Princekiller. Yet Damen did not hesitate to sit in the throne, though he very much felt uncomfortable about it beneath his rage. This was Laurent’s seat, but he wanted his message to be clear. Considering there was no other seat fit for a king, it was not against protocol, either.

“Chelaut,” Damianos hissed. “If you truly wish to be of any use to me, find Jord and have him fetch my betrothed, since you did not post any servants to do so when I arrived. And Mathe, you may begin explaining why I have been so blatantly insulted in what is to be my own kingdom in less than a year.” 

He eyed the candied fruits, the pets eyeing the last of the sugared strawberries for their masters. 

“And clear the fruit, have it given to my party. I think they deserve some sort of friendly welcome, do you not, _Mathe_? What better way to greet them than with treasures from home.” 

* * *

The hall had gone absolutely silent as the court awaited what would undoubtedly be their punishment from Laurent, no one daring to say anything — or, more likely in the fashion of Ver, _waiting_ to say something until the opportune moment when it would be the most pertinent to their own cause. 

No one made any moves to follow Damen’s immediate orders aside form sending someone to gather their prince. Damen, though a king, had no regency here just yet, and having not been warned of his arrival, no one knew if Damen had even been _welcome_ here in the first place. Even the servant were still standing, and not one hit the ground until Laurent finally stepped through the door. 

“Damen—“ Laurent started, and the fact that he /looked/ shocked should have been the first clue that he was up to something. Mathe, Cylan, and Chelaut of course, did not know the King as Damen did. They took a silent pride in seeing the King thrown off, but they - like Laurent - had the control of Vere behind them. No one made a face.

“I told you not to come,” Laurent continued, still standing in the door. Two months had taken a toll on him mentally, but it didn’t show. Luarent would never allow such a thing. His hair had grown, but he never wore it down, so it wasn’t like it was obvious. Laurent was still a young man, still growing into his prime, and he was doing a magnificent job of it. Any changes were from that only, and if it wasnt for the look on his face - which he schooled a little later than he usually would - then there would have been no hints as to anything being /wrong/.

“Your majesty,” Cylan started up first, “We did not know the King of Akielon was coming! We had not the time to prepare, to greet him properly.”

Damen looked more different than Laurent had imagined he would. The difference did not just stop at his hair length - which Laurent was certain if he were to try to tuck it, it would now stay behind Damen’s ear. Damen’s face had a few more hard lines to it that were not indicative of his expression, but of continued heavy training and the slackened diet of a busy man. But his expression was one Laurent knew quite well. Damen was /angry/.

Laurent mourned that he had missed whatever entrance Damen had made. 

“I sent a letter,” Laurent said in a bored tone, still standing so far away from Damen. His cloak was quite nice. “I asked you not to come.”

“Your majesty!” Mathe spoke up, accusatory, and Laurent was controlled enough to not roll his eyes at the melodrama. 

“I made it quite clear,” Laurent continued, taking a step forward towards Damen, and he really did look nice. He must have employed Charls for that cloak. 

And though he wanted to be closer to Damen, it was not yet the time. Laurent had stepped in closer to see the man just beyond Damen. Laurent could see the slave, Lucien, had gone absolutely ashen - quite the contrast to the deep red of Damen’s fine cloak. 

Uh-huh.

“I would speak to _you_ in private,” Laurent said to Damen, stepping forward and catching him by the wrist. “As for the rest of you, you’ve the King of Akielon’s men to entertain. Take them fruits, food, see that their horses are cared for, that they have all they need.”

“We all send the slaves at once, your majesty,” Cylan spoke up, giving Laurent exactly what he needed.

“You will see to it as well, Councillor,” Laurent corrected him, looking out over the others with his usual lackadaisical look, his hand now in Damen’s as opposed to holding his cuffed wrist. “There are esteemed guests inside our walls, and you should have them looked to immediately, especially since it was your pet who last had the letter that was meant to postpone the Akielon King’s trip.” 

Lucien looked weak in the knees.

“I can assure you—“ Cylan went to start, but Laurent turned hard on him with a hiss and a steeled glare.

“/Now/, Councillor.”

The court dispersed and parted, leaving Damen and Laurent in the midst of rising slaves, servants, people gathering the fruits and foods at their own King’s orders.

“With me,” Laurent told Damen, finally leading him out of the hall and through the palace of Arles.

* * *

Damianos nearly upturned the entire table, absolutely furious. Not one person, not even a servant, lifted a finger to clear the fruits he had /ordered/ to be taken. It was an insult worthy of all out war in other countries, and had Laurent been just another king, Damen might very well have called for war there and then. It seemed no one had forgotten his slavery, and he was still seen as Damen the slave, Laurent’s pet. Had he been able to direct his rage at one single person, he would have killed them without even thinking about it. 

He was just about to launch into a tirade when Laurent stepped into the doorway of the hall looking…surprised. And different. His hair was tied up, for one, and it reminded Damen of Nikandros in its styling. That meant Laurent’s hair was longer now. His skin was paler than Damen remembered in Marlas, and every part of Damen’s body fought the urge to whisk him from the hall to make sure he was well. 

Laurent had a plan here, that much was clear. But Damianos did not expect it to have to do with his arrival. Nor did he like the implication that he wasn’t wanted by his own lover, even if he knew that was a lie. 

Worse, Laurent was using the same tone he always did at court, and right now it was infuriatingly similar to the disregard he had shown Damen last time they were in this hall feeding each other sweetmeats. With Damen as a _pet_. 

“I received no letter,” Damianos cut, and Pallas’ hand moved closer to his sword. “Nor would I heed it if I had.” Perhaps not the right thing to say, but he could think of no reason why Laurent would not want him here that involved Arles still standing. 

When Laurent caught his wrist, Damen very nearly threw him off out of instinct alone. Everything Laurent did was with reason, and the way he grabbed his /cuffed/ wrist, exposing it from underneath the warmth of his cloak was no mistake. He did not feel better when Laurent’s hold moved to twine their fingers together. 

He shouldn’t have come. He was going to be ill with anger. 

But Damen didn’t speak as he was led out, too enraged to say anything in greeting to the man he had been waiting for. Not until they were back in the halls he had been led though on a leash, tied and bound. 

“Laurent,” he finally gritted out, stopping in his tracks. “Enough.”

Servants and slaves alike were rushing past, ducking their heads as they went by, Pallas standing at a distance, ready to defend if needed. 

“I think I should at least know what further humiliation to expect before we move someplace else."

* * *

Damen’s hand slipped from his when he stopped, leaning Laurent to take a long step forward, empty-handed. He stopped himself then, turned, and his eyes flicked from Damen—

To Pallas.

Laurent would not be surprised if Nikandros has refused to come to Arles in total - for the rest of his days. He had no purpose of coming here, Laurent supposed. Had there been a time, it would have been /this/ visit, but instead, Damen had brought Pallas.

Who was just...standing there. As if /Laurent/ might do something worth punishment to /Damen/.

“You are not needed here,” Laurent told Pallas pointedly, folding his arms over themselves, his fingers poised as if ready to tap. “Return to your men. /Relax/ yourself. Leave us.”

Laurent /needed/ to be alone with Damen. It had been two months since they’d last been together, and Laurent wanted to know where they stood. So far, it did not look good, but he had come back from much worse.

* * *

Damianos glanced at Pallas, giving him a subtle nod to listen. Pallas nodded in reply, bowing to both Damen and Laurent before taking his exit. Nikandros would have put up much more of a fight, and probably would already have blood on his hands. Damen was still seething from the insult he’d received inside, and felt as powerless as he had feared. 

Damen also realized he would not get a proper conversation out of Laurent in the middle of a hall. So he took Laurent’s hand again and wordlessly nodded toward the passageway he assumed Laurent had been headed to. 

But Damen didn’t want to go running around the maze of Arles, and forced open the first door he could find. It was an empty room, full of disheveled books covered in dust and old kitchen equipment. Hiding away reminded him of the first few months of his recovery, stealing Laurent at any free moment just to hold him and kiss him again. 

He shut the door and locked it before turning to his betrothed. 

“What have they done?” he demanded, voice filled with concern now. “I have heard you hide away from your court, the people seldom see you, and now I am hearing I was to stay home? From /you/?”

It was humiliating. Damen felt worse than he’d imagined. He really did feel that he might be ill, and not just from the cold. 

“I know you have planned this, but once again I wish you would have said something to me to save me at least some embarrassment."

He reached up, tucking a few loose strands of blonde behind Laurent’s ear. He had been so long without affection that he wasn’t even sure he remembered enough. “I have missed you,” he murmured. “How foolish I was to think we might even have the time to let our thoughts wander from each other."

* * *

Damen led them straight into a storage closet, one that would leave them both in fits of sneezing if they stayed too long within. He followed Damen inside nonetheless, mindful of the cloud of dust that closing the door kicked up.

Of all the rooms….

“I /did/ write you explaining all of this,” Laurent defended cooly, matter-of-fact in his actions as he caught Damen’s hand that went for his hair and held it in his own, grasping it between his two hands as he pressed his lips to Damen’s long-scarred knuckles. Damen was angry, but there would be enough to boil his blood here in the coming days. He might as well breathe while he could, there with Laurent.

“They genuinely did not know you were coming,” said Laurent with a secondary knuckle kiss, his eyes up on Damen.

Had it only been two months?

“Even as they are, they never would have treated you as they did. That was my negligence.” 

Laurent moved one hand up into Damen’s hair, commanded the curl back behind Damen’s ear and, as Laurent had expected, it stayed. That pleased him, and he actually somewhat relaxed, as if /that/ had been what was bothering him for all these weeks.

“As for what they have done…" Laurent drew out, taking a look around and finding no place to sit, to relax.

“Damianos, this is ridiculous,” Laurent interrupted himself, gesturing around the room with an elegant flick of his wrist. “Let us to my chambers. I’ll not be a king hiding amongst the /refuse/. I do not have your will to withstand such shame.”

Laurent found the attitude in himself to /joke/, but his lips never upturned into even a soft smile. The weight of the passing weeks was still very heavy on his slim shoulders. 

* * *

“And you gave it off to Lucien,” Damen growled. He didn’t believe for a second that Laurent had actually meant for that letter to make it to him, especially one that important, or else he would have given it to Jord. It was insulting, and as much as he wanted to be with his beloved and find out what had happened, Akielos had to come before that. He leaned into Laurent’s touch, but his face was still sour. 

“ _You_ knew I would come,“ Damen said quietly, making no move to the door. He was in no mood for jokes. Two months apart and he felt just as insignificant as he had upon arriving here in chains. Any ground he had hoped to gain here had just been taken from him in that hall when he’d been made to look foolish and unwelcome.

Damen shook his head. “I don’t understand. I told you my fears about returning here and…” He trailed off. He felt tricked, he felt like a pawn. Of course he had expected games in Arles, but he had not expected to walk right into one that Laurent was masterminding.

Arguing would not help now. Damen was once again powerless in Arles, and that meant he had to rely on Laurent for everything. Again. 

“To our chambers then,” Damen said. Theirs. Not Laurent’s.

* * *

“To /our/ chambers,” Laurent corrected himself cooly, nodding towards the door in a natural fall of order. 

He walked with his head high, a purpose to his steps as he led damen through the halls he knew so well. The hall where they had held their evening with guests such as Lord Tor, Damen’s old chambers, before he had been moved to Laurent’s apartments. They moved past the harem, past the slave baths, and finally, they made it to the king hall that led to Laurent’s—/their/ chambers.

Laurent led Damen past what had become his chambers, past his own private baths and, finally, to the large, ornate door that they could call theirs.

Jord stood at the entrance to Laurent’s room, dressed in livery, but armed. He was the closest thing Laurent had to a friend here, and that said a lot about his relationship with Vere. To this day, he was not sure he had been forgiven for what had happened to Aimerick, and Laurent knew the flogging a few weeks back only reminded Jord of old hurts.

At Jord’s right, dressed in the same manner, was Lazar, another testament to Laurent’s stance. Lazar was of his uncle’s mercenaries, turned to Laurent’s side only a bit over a year ago. They were two men who could change their loyalty any moment. 

Yet they both showed their respect to their kings with a bowed head, an opened door.

Laurent only said, “Pallas is here,” and stepped through the opening.

When Damen was inside, Laurent gestured for the door to be closed behind them.

And he and Damen were finally alone.

Laurent’s room was questionably immaculate, clean and tidied, even his workspace - which had been piled high with papers just days ago - was down to a neat stack. There was a letter to Damen, half-written, just peeking out among the papers. If it was a part of Laurent’s plan, he didn’t bring attention to it. He had cleaned the room himself, without the help of slaves, but admitting that would be to admit that it had been a mess in the first place. He’d controlled it like he had everything else in his life. There was no need to brag.

“Is it as you remember?” Laurent asked, crossing over to the fireplace in his sitting room and taking a poker in his hands to rekindle the logs inside. Damen had not yet enjoyed the winter at Arles. Perhaps he would decide to leave before he truly felt it...

“Has /anything/ changed here at all? Under my rule? Can you tell the differences?” 

Laurent turned from the fire, blue eyes mottled so with an indecipherable emotion.

Damen looked like home standing there, lit by the warm glow of the fire, stood there in his regalia, his cloak, his furs, his face stern, sovereign. But this was not yet the time to act on two months‘ worth of daydreams and desires. They had much to work through.

“I did not want to bring you here like this,” Laurent confessed to Damen blandly after a long moment of regarding him. “But I hope you understand it was necessary.” 

* * *

Damianos said nothing as they walked, but he noticed things. The way Laurent was acting, moving. It wasn’t quite fear, but that was the closest thing Damen could pin it too. Laurent was treading carefully, stressed beyond measure. Damen could see it in the way he carried his shoulders now that the initial anger was dissipating a bit. His worry increased, his own stress too—as he walked past places where he had been kept as prisoner. It did bring back some fond memories though: the night when he had first made headway with an insufferable prince, the few times Laurent had been kind with him here. It wasn’t right to think back on any of it fondly, but Damen couldn’t help it. 

He greeted Jord by name, and merely nodded at Lazar, immediately more worried for Laurent. Jord he trusted, but not Lazar. the air around seemed to tense somewhat, and Damen was glad to be alone with Laurent once they were inside, glad he was able to protect him. Of course, Laurent had proved more than capable of protecting himself, but there were more types of protection than that of a sword. 

The room was completely clean and organized. If that was not an indication that Laurent knew what he was doing, nothing was. He knew his lover, and stress made Laurent pile papers and scatter things. This had just been cleaned. 

For a moment he saw a boy, a young man of twenty-one, far too young to be put in charge of a kingdom. Laurent tended his fire, and in his questions Damen read the feelings of inadequacy, and perhaps the feeling of being overwhelmed. He could imagine Laurent asking the same questions of Auguste, looking for any sort of sign that what he was doing was right. 

“My love, you are doing wonderfully,” Damen assured him in a soft tone. He moved forward, arms winding at Laurent’s waist, holding him close. He wished things had not started this way, so he could cut off those lacings as Laurent had asked of him in his first letter. He wanted to badly to make love to Laurent, to show him that he had not forgotten, to remind him that he had someone by his side, always. 

“I have been out among your people—how they sing for you, Laurent. they adore you, they swing banners of starburst and lion and cheer upon hearing your name.” Damen resting his forehead against Laurent’s, holding him tightly. It had been so long, and here he as, warm and against him once more. “And I see the disdain on the faces of your court, which means you are making progress against the injustices here.”

“I also see a difference in you, but not one I like,” Damen whispered, leaning back so that he could thumb below Laurent’s eye where the skin there was slightly inflamed, a light violet. “You have not been sleeping. You have not been eating properly, and I have never seen your hair this long. And even with my hands at your waist I can feel the deep tension all the way up your spine.”

He pulled Laurent to his chest, embracing him tightly. It was all he could think to do, as he /knew/ Laurent had probably not gotten so much as a touch on the shoulder since they parted. 

“Do you like my cloak?” Damen asked into Laurent’s hair, still holding tight. “I asked Charls to craft something you would like."

* * *

Laurent knew how he looked - or, he did to an extent. His looks were something Laurent had never /had/ to be worried with, and when he passed mirrors, he only ever searched for things like blood or lines from his pillows. Both would be equally as atrocious in court, he presumed. Though, really, it felt he could nothing right there anyway. Perhaps he should enter covered in blood one day, maybe /then/ he’d get the proper attention.

Laurent was not a good king - not in the way that counted in Vere. 

He was still a young man, having had no adolescence worth mentioning or growing from. He had not been raised into kingship, mainly because he was never intended to be /king/. He wasn’t sure when his uncle had made that decision for him, but he had to assume it was early on. His only preparation had been from what he had gleaned himself - a bookish boy with a knack for history, and even then, he had become a product of his environment. 

Laurent was not ready to be a good king. Not in the way his father had been, not in the way Auguste would have been. Vere needed a king that did not rule in the Veretian style. Vere needed someone above the conniving, the scheming. Hid father had ruled this country valiantly, and Auguste had been a kind soul that would have done the same. As golden as he was, as unwavering, strong, and kind, he would have had the court and the people behind him, flawlessly united.

But Laurent had been raised by his uncle in his most transformative years. He had learned the twisted ways of his own home, had learned what the snakes inside were willing to do, and it was difficult to /love/ that side of it all. He learned what he knew of the politics of Vere through that vile man, and through all of those he kept in his company - many of which were still there today, for Laurent could not just /rid/ of them. Laurent had the countryside, he had the villages and towns, and in that, he was moving Vere forward into something he wanted it to be…and if he crossed the wrong person, many of whom wanted him dead, Vere would be brought to a grinding halt.

Vere needed a good man as its king, and Laurent would never be that. It foiled him time and time again with the people who had to suffer him daily. He was selfish and prideful, cruel and cold. Vere needed a king who had been raised above that.

Vere needed Damen as much as Laurent did. 

Laurent ran his hands over Damen’s fine cloak, craftsmanship unquestioned. He did quite like it, though he still found most of Damen’s clothing impractical. It was a beautiful blend of fabrics and culture. Damen had an eye for that sort of thing, where Laurent had hardly been able to focus on Akielos since his return. 

“I haven’t done anything,” Laurent stated honestly, hands moving through the fur lining about Damen’s collar. If he were going to say more to that affect, he stopped himself, shook his head and moved his hand to feather over the warm skin under Damen’s cloak. Damen was still so bronzed, even as winter began to take hold. Though Laurent could not say he’d ever seen Damen /pale/. Even as he lay practically dying - twice! - he’d managed more colour than the Veretian king.

Laurent’s mind was in its usual turmoil, even though he knew he was on the right track to making something happen. It was akin to the moment he’d realised his hand was freed back in that cell, when he knew he would have to with Govart, injured as he was. This would not be a pleasurable time for either of them, but it would be /necessary/. 

“And I do,” Laurent added, “like your cloak."

* * *

Damen was realizing quote quickly that he never should have allowed Laurent to return here alone. This place was poison to him, that much was evident in the way he moved, the dead look in his eyes that Damen had never seen before. Laurent had carried the weight of Vere on his back during their fight against the Regent, but some of the weight had landed on Damen’s shoulders. Here in Arles, Laurent had carried it himself with no close confidants. Laurent did not have a Nikandros, and his council was still not fully supportive. 

“My father always said the hardest part about being king is knowing when to do nothing at all,” Damen said quietly. “We may be at the helm of our kingdom, but that does not mean it is best to decide every last thing within it.”

He did not want to leave this room until Laurent had regained some color in his cheeks, warmed by the fire, and perhaps slept. Damen’s caravan would not arrive for some hours, and it would be into the night by then, he celebrations would be had the following day. 

It was impossible to be angry now with Laurent so in need in front of him. What light Damen had seen in him in Marlas had been extinguished. 

“May we go to the baths?” Damen asked, doing his best not to think about what had happened there before. “I am very much in need of a warm soak after my journey. The men can wait—it is not as if your councillors will be anything close to prepared until we are finished.”

He framed Laurent’s face in his hands and kissed him, because he was not going to go another second without it. It had been far, far too long. 

* * *

Right on Laurent's tongue was a dismissal of the baths. He usually stuck to bathing /late/ in the evening, when every person within the palace was asleep in their beds…or someone else’s beds. And that was if he even made it into a nice tub! Most days, he bathed by the jug, cleansing himself thoroughly, but quickly - efficiently. He did not take the time for any sorts of the pleasure that thrived through Vere - its hedonistic life-blood. He didn't have the time.

But he had afforded himself at least one day’s worth of time with Damen’s unexpected visit. Again, not ideal, but necessary.

“Of course,” Laurent finally agreed, his hands sliding down the length of Damen’s arms to rest on his forearms, no response to the kiss he had been given. He felt the veins under Damen’s strong arms, traced them down until his own finally fell to his side. 

“I’ve dismissed my attendants for the evening,” Laurent said aloud a second later, perhaps just realizing it in that moment himself. He had done it in a moment of quiet rage, having been pushed over the edge when a servant dropped a goblet in the middle of Laurent’s studying. It had been a knee-jerk reaction, but he _had_ gotten much more finished with no one moving about him, nobody distracting him.

And now, he had Damen. Laurent had not yet gauged if this was the distraction he thought it would be, or the focus he truly needed. They would find out.

“Jord,” Laurent called out, and the door was opened before Laurent finished his name. The best man Laurent had in his guard was acting as a door keep, but…he did it well. “Have the baths filled for his majesty and I. No attendants needed, but we will need wine. Two jugs, if you would see to it.”

“At once,” Jord nodded, and he—

Sent Lazar.

Good man.

“If I am to take the time to celebrate with /our/ people,” Laurent started, “I suppose I should prepare for what /your/ people expect of me.” 

Laurent was still not someone who drank or enjoyed wine or spirits of any caliber. Just beneath fucking, drinking was something he’d yet to practice enough to make headway on, but with Akielos, celebrations and drinking were one, just as in Vere, celebrations and fucking were one. It would be a day to remember, and Laurent hoped it was for the best. 

And if not, he would have a lot of alcohol to help in his task of catching Damen up on what he had missed in Arles since his last visit.


	6. Part II: Of Courts and Kyroi (12.1.20)

Damen felt this was becoming more of an emergency by the second. Laurent barely responded to his kiss at all, and while it didn’t hurt Damen’s feelings, it occurred to him that maybe the distance had done more than he had thought. Laurent was distant—not in a cold way, but in an exhausted way. Like his body was functioning but Laurent had long since retired. Two months in this place had done that to his shining king. Damen would kill those councillors one by one. 

The request for wine was also startling. Damen hadn’t seen Laurent drunk since the first night of feasting in Marlas, when he’d been swept up in a drinking game once more. Damen enjoyed wine, but seldom used it in conjunction with any sort of work. 

“We will not need to celebrate until tomorrow,” Damen reminded him quietly. “Laurent, are you sure you are well?”

He kissed Laurent’s forehead to feel for fever, but there was none. He seemed…distracted. Unsure, maybe. Damen had never seen Laurent like this before, so he was unsure how to handle it. 

“And you know you do not have to drink wine with the people of Akielos. I brought no kyroi, and they would be the only source of obligation. I will even avoid drink with you, if you would like.” He smiled softly. “I think if you were to provide them with warm places to sleep, they would gladly tear the crown off my head and give it to you.”

He would never call his people simplistic, but Akielons had a more up front way of viewing people. Gestures stood out to them. Those that saw Laurent in the palace with the Regent were firmly in his circle. Laurent’s only infraction against his popularity were the scars on Damen’s back. And that one was not to be forgotten. 

“Sit,” Damen offered, gesturing toward the chaise by the fire. “Rest a moment until the baths are ready.” Damen wasted no time sitting at the end closest to the fire, still feeling all kinds of cold despite his layers. 

“I can see why outdoor sporting is not a favorite pastime here,” he chuckled, rubbing his arms. “Come warm me up, and tell me how I should treat these councilors. Currently I plan to kill them all, so it would be best to dissuade me."

* * *

“I /brought/ you here to kill them all,” Laurent responded dryly, taking a graceful seat next to Damen. He dropped his head on Damen’s shoulder, and a part of his cold exterior started to melt. Not much of it, but enough that /he/ could feel it. He’d gotten a joke out, at least, assuming that /had/ been a joke. Which would be a heavy assumption to make.

“I am well, Damen,” Laurent promised, taking his beloved’s hand again, really threading his fingers through, feeling Damen’s callouses, the warmth of his skin Damen swore he didn’t have. Southerners could be so dramatic. “You are seeing me overwhelmed for the first time—“ Laurent shook his head with a huff of wry laughter. “The /second/ time.” That fight Damen only reminded Laurent of in his best of moods. He had been /quite/ frustrated then, but it had been quick, and he had retreated from Damen afterwards. Now, he invited Damen in, because that was what Damen wanted.

Laurent was adjusting.

It was much easier to adjust under Damen's conditions. The kissing, the care, the adoration. Laurent feared how easily Damen could get to his core, but in all of the emotions he had felt in these past few weeks, there was no room for fear.

“And since when do we not enjoy outdoor sporting?” Laurent asked, and though his voice was ebbed with a leadened exhaustion, there was a lightness taking to it - like thick air, clouded with the smog of fire. He was burning out, but he was trying to fight it. He didn’t get to relax just because Damen was here. It would help in the long run, but right now, they were still jogging. “As I recall, there was a certain Okton where a Veretian bested you in your _outdoor_ _sporting_.” Laurent flicked his wrist as if to say ‘but that’s neither here nor there.’

They had… _so_ much to do before their union...

“They _will_ greet you properly tomorrow,” Laurent said after a moment, gazing up at Damen from his shoulder. The dark curls that fell down Damen's neck were actually in Laurent’s way. “They will stay up all night to do it, if they must. They fear you. They would never be so brazen without protection from you."

And they knew that protection would not come from Laurent. 

* * *

Damen smiled when Laurent leaned against him, thankful that they were making progress. He watched the fire as Laurent took his hand, allowing his betrothed some time to get reacquainted with him. He loved the feel of Laurent’s slender fingers running through his own, feeling the way their callouses smoothed over each other. Aside from that, Laurent’s skin was much softer than his, like the rest of him. 

“It was a _draw_ ,” Damen reminded him with a smile. He adjusted, looping his arm around Laurent’s shoulders to keep him close. The fire was warm, and it reminded him of the field, being out in encampments when the night chill became bothersome. He liked imagining just him and Laurent here, alone, safe. 

“Thank you,” he murmured, turning his head to press a kiss to the bridge of Laurent’s nose. “I do not think they yet fear me, but the sentiment is nice.”

He gently sat up, lifting his arm from around Laurent to unfasten his cloak. Underneath was a chiton of heavier fabric, enough to keep him warm without his cloak if necessary. Or so Charls had claimed. 

He draped the cloak around Laurent with a smile. He looked good in red and gold. It made him look more regal, if that were even possible.

“You are going to rest after we bathe,” Damen murmured, rubbing Laurent's arm through the cloak. “Come closer.” He reached to help Laurent settle on his chest when Jord entered. 

“The baths are ready,” Jord announced. He glanced at Damen’s hand at Laurent’s waist, then at the cloak, but his eyes were on Damen not a heartbeat later. 

“Thank you, Jord,” Damen replied. Jord bowed before stepping out. Damen adjusted the cloak as he sat up, making sure it was secure. “Wear it to the baths,” Damen encouraged. “You will want it for the walk back, at least.”

“Shall we?"

* * *

“I am not the one who is cold,” said Laurent, but outfitted under Damen’s cloak, he was willing to pretend he was. Charls had worked miracles, as he usually did, and not only was the cloak regal, well-crafted, and warm - it smelled of Damen. 

Damen, always stronger than the walls Laurent could build, had slowly beginning to level them. 

At least for the night, and Laurent fully believed he deserved a /night/.

So he moved into Damen’s hold, rested against his chest, tried to take up enough space that his beloved was somewhat covered with his own cloak. The chiton was thicker than he anticipated beneath his hands, and Laurent suddenly was very aware of what a sturdy barrier it put between them. Laurent still did not find it /practical/, but it was slightly more fitting for the weather.

He wore the cloak to the baths, noticing that Lazar had not returned to his post. 

“I presume he found Pallas?” Laurent asked smoothly as they passed, glancing over his fur-lined shoulder to Jord.

“You are usually correct in your presumptions,” Jord said gruffly. It seemed to go over well with Laurent, even if the truth was no so professional. “Do you require guard in the baths?”

“Do /you/ presume someone will make an attempt on my life while we bathe?” Laurent asked, stopping Damen by his bicep just for this exchange.

“I do not make presumptions when you are around,” Jord replied, and with that, Laurent gave a nod and turned away.

Good man.

* * *

Damen realized after looking between Jord and Laurent that he had fallen fro a trap. This time one of Nikandros’s design. It explained why Nikandros had recommended Pallas so many times, and why Pallas had accepted so readily. And Damen also now knew that this was the result of a bet Nikandros had made with Pallas on the way back from Marlas concerning bedding the daughter of one of the merchants of Marlas. 

He was going to wring the neck of the Kyros of Ios when he returned.

“Pallas and Lazar,” Damen murmured mostly to himself as they moved down the hall. “Was I aware of that? I don’t recall.”

He didn’t mind it. In fact, he was thankful all the more to Pallas. He was a good man and fiercely loyal to Akielos. The fact that he had interest in a man of Vere was a signal of good things. Another good thing was Laurent wearing his cloak, walking down the hall with it on his shoulders like a prize, Damen on his arm. 

They entered the baths and Damen couldn’t be upset by the warm steam that filled them. He was going to be cold his entire time here, he just knew it. For now though, he started with Laurent’s sleeves at once, working as quickly as he could to free his beloved. 

“I have learned a few things from my physician,” Damen said, excitement leaking into his tone. “I can give you a massage much better than I have before. Well, that is the hope. I have yet to try it. Nikandros bolted from me.”

It was so easy to smile when Laurent was there.

* * *

“You are not the most observant, are you, Damianos?” Laurent asked in his final words outside of the baths, knowing Jord would get a small laugh from it. /Every/ soldier who has fought alongside them knew of Pallas and Lazar - their sneaking around, the closeness, their courting in the field. To not know was to be too focused on something else—some/one/ else.

In the baths, Laurent stood there, arms before him as Damen began with his lacings, attending him as he once had in this very room. That night had. It ended well for Damen.

“I am starting to believe Nikandros doesn’t like /fun/,” Laurent noted as Damen spoke, still listening, even as his mind wandered. 

Laurent wouldn’t say it, but he found himself none too fond of the idea of Damen attending him now, here - not just in the baths, but in Vere as a whole. Where Laurent would not want a /slave/, a servant or squire would do, if it meant Damen’s hands would be freed to tend to himself. Damen, admittedly, undressed Laurent all the time, and that was something Laurent usually found great satisfaction in, but he was very aware of how anything here could affect Damen for the worse, disrupt their union and, once again, their time together.

Yet Laurent did not pull himself away.

When he turned for further undressing, he held his hair up for Damen, revealing the top of the lacings that ran down his back, his eyes fixed on the wall across from him. 

“I asked you to bring a knife,” Laurent said, feeling the pull of laces against his back. “I can understand why you didn’t. You’ve nowhere to hide it in that Akielon garb, do you, darling?”

He had danced around so much so far, for him and Damen to be /here/. Damen let Laurent get away with absolute murder. He’d not pressed Laurent and forced answers from him. He’d not begged to know why Laurent had asked him not to come. He didn’t ask about the new bodies hanging on the wall of the palace. He just let Laurent go, let him lead. 

He gave Laurent just as much power as he took away from him. A balance. 

* * *

Damen laughed outright—his first since arriving here. “Nikandros /loves/ fun.” He shook his head. “He loves it too much, though he has calmed with age, I suppose.” Another reason he wished he had properly courted Laurent. Nikandros would have rolled his eyes for awhile, but he would have warmed up to the beautiful Veretian prince soon enough. He had even commented on Auguste’s beauty in the field, before…before it all happened. 

“Something changed in him, I don’t recall when. He wanted to come, then wanted nothing to do with it. I assume that is when he found out he lost his bet with Pallas, as a merchant from Vere was visiting at the time. But I believe he did not wish to be massaged by a man who had been two months without his lover for another reason entirely.”

He moved right along to Laurent’s back, though he was very much tempted to rip the laces and press Laurent to the marble to take him there. Instead, he just methodically moved his fingers, making deft work of it all. 

“The benefit of winter is boots, where I do have a knife,” Damen said proudly. “But I will not use it. I planned to, had you swept me up in the fervor of lovemaking the moment we entered your chambers.”

Finished with the laces, he gave Laurent a playful tug of his hair to alert him that it was done. “I think we are both due for a trim,” Damern murmured. “I will appreciate the extra grip, but so will any enemies.”

He pulled down the shirt, immediately pressing his lips to the warm skin he’d just exposed. He feathered kisses up the nape of Laurent’s neck, so thankful to be here with him now. Any more time apart and he feared what he would have come across.

His hands wandered to Laurent’s waist, then slipped around to his front, finding the laces there. 

“I missed you so much,” Damen whispered, pressing his nose to the join of Laurent’s neck and shoulder. The muscle there was so tight, he knew they would be spending a lot of time in the baths tonight trying to rid Laurent of some of it. 

* * *

The idea of Nikandros enjoying /anything/ amused Laurent, for he had never even seen the man with a smile on his face. Even when he slammed the Veretian King into the ground, knocked the air out of his lungs in the sawdust, Nikandros merely stood, never cracked a smile or an interest, and told Laurent to ‘get up, go again, do better.’ He’d spent days with Nikandros riding to Ios, and Laurent couldn’t say he knew much about him at all. 

He would get to know him. When the time was right.

“Boots only in the winter,” Laurent mused, as smoothly as usual, eyebrow quirked though Damen couldn’t even see it. His voice usually gave off all the intention he meant it to. “Very progressive.”

He involuntarily gasped when Damn tugged at his hair, turning to face him with the smallest spread of color of his cheeks. Damen had always loved his hair, and Laurent took a pride in that, but he’d not thought about anything like a /grip/. Not to Damen or to enemies, admittedly. He ran his fingers up through his own hair, pushed it back and— oh. It had grown a bit, hadn’t it? It went past his shoulders, but not by much. Auguste had worn his hair much longer, and he had done fine around enemies. Of course, he had many fewer than Laurent had, and when it came down to the one that mattered, Laurent knew for a fact that Auguste’s hair had not been his downfall. 

“My enemies do not know how to find advantage in a fight,” Laurent dismissed, holding the back of Damen’s neck with his hands, ginger and soft, 

“You have not changed so much,” Laurent noted, angling back his body so Damen would pull out of his neck. He knew it was tight, and he didn’t need Damen hyper-focused on it. “In your time away, I thought you might wise up to the terms of our union and change your mind.” Of course, Laurent was well aware Damen would do no such thing, but it was easy to joke about - mainly because it was something Laurent truly feared.

He never showed it.

In a delayed response to what had happened in his chambers, Laurent leant forward for the kiss he’d not had the mentality to enjoy earlier, slow and warm, but notably on what Laurent thought was borrowed time. He ended it shortly after it began.

“How is Korus?” Laurent asked, busying himself with freeing Damen of the wintry chiton, his fingers deftly undoing the pin at his shoulder in an act he had only learned from being with Damen. “And Cosmas?"

* * *

Damen gave a devilish grin at the way Laurent blushed. For such a foul-mouthed king, it was amusing to find something sexual a Veretian hadn’t picked up on. A rare treat. He clucked disapprovingly at Laurent’s response. “Best to overestimate your enemies, my love,” he murmured, still smiling. Laurent had no enemies to worry about when Damianos of Akielos was around. He would kill anyone who so much as tried to touch Laurent at this point—Arles seemed to bring that out in him. 

“I would never,” Damen assured him. “If Nikandros were here, he would tell you what an insufferable oaf I have been, pining over you. If anything, I have an increased desire to never let you out of my sight again.”

Damen met Laurent’s lips for a proper kiss this time, his fingers curling at the now-loose fabric at Laurent’s sides. He aimed to deepen it, but Laurent had pulled away before much heat could develop between them. 

And any mood Damen had planned to rekindle was quashed with talk of Korus and Cosmas, though Damen felt differently about them now than he had in Marlas. 

“I wouldn’t venture to say I am fond of Korus,” Damen began as he chiton fell from his shoulders. “But I am always proud when I see Akielon teaching taking effect. He is stronger now. His swordwork still needs much improvement, but he is above average with a knife. His wrestling is terrible, but even that has improved.”

When he began to think of Cosmas, his smile faltered and his chest grew tight. 

“I am fond of Cosmas,” he admitted almost shamefully. He just knew Laurent would hate that. “He is such a joyful child. Curious. He reminds me of myself, and of Kastor. The good things—the good things of Kastor.”

He cleared his throat, lifting his leg to swiftly unbuckle his boot. No lacings on those, not yet. 

“I supposed you are going to be angry with me for that,” Damen said quietly. “But I cannot help it. I would rather be kind to him and him betray me than to treat him with indifference or cruelty when he has done nothing to deserve it."

* * *

Laurent did not blame Damen for not being fond of Korus. He was difficult, as Laurent had warned him, arrogant and patronizing. He was impish and conniving…but he was improving. If nothing else, the Akielons would treat him strength, to fight for himself, to believe he was worth something more than what he had been in Vere. It was dangerous to give him such power, but he was a human, one who had only been an inconvenience at most to Laurent. He deserved to /be/ something.

And then there was /Cosmas/.

He watched placidly, despite his inner illness, as Damen softened at the very mention of the child, and Laurent braced himself for what was coming. His face was void of emotion, his body still as he listened to Damen confess that he /cared/ for the child. That he was /actively/ caring for the child, giving him enough time to become fond of him, to see that he was curious, joyful, good—

Laurent had expected the child to be a trouble by now, a bother, a /problem/ to Damen and to Akielos. Cosmas was still a toddler— and infant? Laurent could not say he knew what stage of his life the child was in. Was he walking? Babbling? Was Kastor’s bastard developing a personality and /showing/ it? Laurent did not know enough about children to truly understand, and he certainly did not have a reason to.

Laurent placed his hands on Damen’s chest, hung his head, and shook it.

“Damianos…” He murmured disapprovingly, /disbelievingly/! “Have you not suffered enough betrayal in your life? To /invite/ this one in…” Now there was a whole new issue Laurent would have to worry with. He brought one hand to his forehead and just held there for a second, one hand still on Damen. He was so obviously displeased.

Disappointed.

He knew Damen would be like this.

“You are too good a man,” Laurent chastised because, for now, what more /could/ he possibly do? What could he say? It had begun, it was too late. 

“I rid of the problem of one child, and you give me another…”

He would /never/ relax in this bath.

* * *

Just as he had suspected: Laurent was disappointed in him. But he did not regret caring for Cosmas. He wanted the boy away from Jokaste as much as possible, to see the world for himself instead of through the tales she would undoubtedly spin him. He wanted to give Cosmas a chance, because despite knowing he would likely betray him, there was a chance he wouldn’t. It wasn’t as if Cosmas had a claim to the throne. Kastor himself had only been heir out of necessity until Damen came along. 

Though he supposed Cosmas could argue that same claim when he grew older if Laurent was intent on there being no heir at all. 

“He will not be a problem for many years,” Damen said. “And it is not as if I will lie to him. I am not pretending to be his father. I would rather bet on kindness than cruelty. I will not mistreat him.”

They finished the task of undressing not long after the discussion of the boys, and Damen waded into the steaming bath with a sigh of relief. Finally, some warmth. He took a moment just to absorb it all, sinking to his chin so that as much of his body was covered as possible. Damn winter in Arles. 

“And what of Arles?” Damianos asked, figuring that was an even question to ask. He finally moved again, wading up to Laurent. “Turn around. I won’t go another moment without at least attempting to massage you."

* * *

This seemed like the /perfect/ time to remind Damen that the boy would not just be a problem for /him/. The kingdom the boy would most likely covet would be /theirs/, and more than that, Damen was forgetting the most key part of all:

Laurent had killed Cosmas’ father. 

He was young, yes, would not even know it, but people could be cruel - even those of Akielos. Laurent knew what losing family felt like in a way Damen /didn’t/. Damen had lost his brother, that was true, but he had never held it against Laurent as Laurent had held it against him. He’d never let it rot him from the inside, seen it as a needless bloody murder. 

Damen would have taken Kastor into custody, would and could have let him live, but Laurent had seen to it that it would not happen.

This child had the chance to take apart everything they worked in to their united lands, and to the right person, Cosmas would have more of a right to the throne than Laurent ever would. Surely Damen /foresaw/ this!

But Laurent but his tongue. Now was not the time. Damen would not hear him at a time like this, would dismiss him, more likely to argue than to just agree with Laurent.

He would wait.

“Arles,” said Laurent as he stripped out of the last of his clothing, let his hair down, the ends curling from the steam, “is still very much /Arles/.” He stepped into the bath after Damen, instantly going pink from the heat. He was more than happy to turn his back to him to hide that.

“The aristocracy is a poison to all we aim to do,” Laurent told Damen, mindful of his volume. No one would be storming down his hall anytime soon, but he didn’t need Jord or Lazar hearing him, did not need them any more disheartened than they had been.

“We have the majority of the populace, but the inner workings of this capital are impeding our major successes,” Laurent shook his head, taking a brief moment to collect his thoughts, to summarise this for Damen. 

“My uncle still has his hands in this place. I would have them eradicated.” And soon. 

* * *

Damen’s hands moved to Laurent’s neck and he began to circle his thumbs there. The neck was a sensitive place (as he well knew after Marlas) so he moved gently, slowly easing knots apart. Talking of their kingship was not exactly how Damen wanted to spend their first night together in two months, but even he knew it was necessary. This was not a visit for pleasure, as much as they wanted it to appear that way. 

“So who is our greatest concern and why? And what prevents us from taking them out?” Damen asked. It was often best to ask the obvious questions first, then devise a strategy from there. 

He couldn’t help put press a kiss to the nape of Laurent’s neck, silently coaxing him to relax as his thumbs continued to work. It wasn’t much, but Laurent was loosening up just a bit under his hands. 

“This will help,” Damen murmured mostly to himself as he reached for a bottle of oil. It was perfumed (what wasn’t, in Arles), and the scent reminded him of a few moments he would rather forget. It was probably the most expensive scent in Vere, because he had only ever smelled it around Laurent, the Regent, and a few of the richest in the court.

Once the oil was warmed, Damen resumed his movements at Laurent’s neck, easing into just a bit more force. 

“Am I an impediment?” he asked after a moment, eyes unfocused. “Is that why you…/claim/ you wanted to keep me in Ios?"

* * *

“You are a /distraction/,” Laurent said very clearly, tilting his head just so so that Damen’s thumbs would work into a particularly sore part of his neck. He let out a little sound of relief as the pain blossomed and the muscle loosened. Laurent bowed his head and took a moment to breathe through that before continuing.

“You impede my thinking like no other, Damianos.” He only ever used Damen’s full name for chastising - playful or not. “But I am adjusting to your presence.” Trying to let him in more, trying to remember they would rule this kingdom /together/, that having plans around Damen was foolish, for he only ever thwarted them in some charming fashion or another.

“Cylan and Mathe are the two real troubles,” Laurent told Damen in a show that he very well could think clearly right now. “You will sit in in court in two days time and hear for yourself how they think. And they’ve the favour of the aristocracy.” The Regent has been sure, even in the defamation of his own character, that Laurent would have a difficult time in taking up his title. He’d not helped himself with his talk of Akielos’ banning of slaves, but he had fought for much worse.

“The rest of my court is weak-minded. They will bend to the will of power and ease.” And luckily, Laurent had that knowledge and knew how to work with it. 

Laurent grunted as Damen worked out a particularly tough knot, and maybe a bit of the noise was frustration on the part of his council. He did so hate to talk about them.

“Tell me,” Laurent said with a voice much more authoritative. “About the Kyroi. Do you trust them even when you are so far? Do they all share your interests?” 

* * *

It was almost as cathartic to relieve Laurent’s tightness as it would have been to relieve his own, Damen found as he continued massaging Laurent’s neck. Knots were slowly working loose and he had to say the oil was helping significantly. It would take a long time to properly wrk out the tension in Laurent’s back—likely multiple sessions—but Damen was more than willing to do as needed. Clearly Laurent needed tending to, and Damianos knew he was the only one permitted to give it. 

Damen couldn’t say he knew all that much about Cylan and Mathe beyond what he’d seen of them in the distant past, and most recently in Marlas for the groundbreaking celebrations. Math was probably his least favorite due to his bedding young boys, but Cylan seemed to pose more of a threat to Laurent. Korus was as feral as he was thanks to Mathe’s treatment and manipulation. 

“Trouble is coming with the kyroi,” Damen sighed. “But I trust them completely. Only those held in the highest regard in their province can attain the title and there is a rigorous test of character and strength.” He realized Laurent likely did not know the process of selecting kyroi, as Nikandros was a special case. 

“Kyroi serve until they can no longer be trusted in leadership, upon death, or when they are no longer able to keep up with the rigorous training required for any commanding position,” Damianos explained as hie hands moved to the base of Laurent’s neck, massaging just beneath. “Ideally, a Kyros chooses whom he thinks should succeed him, but in the event of an unexpected death, various cities within the province select candidates and they venture to the capital to be tested.”

It was obvious that Damen was very proud of the sacred process. He wholeheartedly felt it was the reason for Akielos’ continued success. 

“Either way, whomever is selected must undergo formidable tests of character, physical strength, and abilities to lead. They are tempted time and again, at any and every moment. They must also compete, spar, and hunt with great skill. But my favorite is when they are sent out to the field with a small squadron and kept awake day and night except for minimal sleep. At random moments they are attacked, or presented with various problems to fix while they are in a delirious state.” He smiled. “It can be very humorous to watch.”

Damen himself had only seen three tests, and only one he remembered: that of Nikandros.

“Testing can last for days or months, until the leadership of the province are satisfied that they have a true vision of the man in question. It is deeply important, as a weak Kyros can devastate the economy of a province. There is little room for political favors, and it was designed that way by those who came before me.”

Talking of home, sharing his culture with Laurent was something he cherished. He still found it hard to believe a man who had hated him so violently in the beginning of this journey was so warm and pliant now. 

“Of course, the King may refuse the appointment of a Kyros, but it is very rare and must only be done with good reason, as it is incredibly insulting to the province. The Kyros of Ios is the only one who is selected without testing, as he is appointed by the King.”

His hands were kneading at Laurent’s shoulders now, where he had plenty of knots to focus on. 

“The kyroi to the north are more loyal to me, but it has been long enough that those in the south are loyal as well. The problem will arise in Marlas—whether Nikandros will become Kyros of Delpha to be with me or remain in Ios. And Pepidas—the Kyros of Delpha, whom you met—will be displaced. Pepidas does not have the knowledge of Ios he needs to govern there. And then there is a matter of Vere, and if kyroi will be appointed in Veretian provinces—my skull aches just thinking about all that needs to be sorted out."

* * *

Laurent stayed silent and still, taking in every bit of the information. He weighed it all out in his mind - the justifications, the underlying issues, the questions he had that were later answered. Fully invested, he began to understand a part of Damen’s culture that he never understood before.

It was like a shared ruling, eyes of the king on every province, his beliefs and expectations upheld across the lands without the need to micromanage every border and event. 

Vere did not have such a thing. Yes, the aristocracy each had their areas of interest, but Veretian rule was usually upheld be frequented visits of the king to the provinces and of the province’s aristocracy to Arles.

But Laurent was quite tired of the aristocracy. He trusted very few, trusted their judgement even less. 

But no plan he’d ever laid had taken only a day.

“We will govern the provinces of Vere in a similar way,” Laurent decided right there - a total upheaval of generations of culture, made there during a back massage. 

Of course, Laurent realised what he had just proposed - it would take months if not years to set into place. There would have to be trials, training, trusted allies found in the fields, but Laurent had decided. 

He’d just confiscated ten nobleman’s right to power.

And he didn’t even bat an eye.

“We will have men bonded over it. Veretians training with Akielons to spread our pronouncements.”

“I would expect Nikandros to be a part of that training,” Laurent added, not exactly making it sound like a choice.

There would be no need to gain a headache out of this conversation. It had already been decided. 

* * *

Damen was so shocked at Laurent’s response that he stopped massaging for a moment. Of course he had always thought the way Akielos was run was better than any other kingdom, but as King he wasn’t supposed to think anything different. And of all people to agree with him, the last person he suspected was Laurent of Vere. He certainly hadn’t expect Laurent to want to upheave the entire history of leadership in Vere in favor of Akielon tradition. 

He resumed massaging, rather at a loss as to what to say. He agreed, but he also knew how horribly it would go over among Veretians. The soldiers here were…good enough, but anyone outside of the military was a sorry excuse for a kyroi. 

“I can’t say I expected that,” Damen finally murmured. “At all.”

His hands wandered down, massaging at Laurent’s spine. He kissed once more at the nape of Laurent’s neck, lips lingering there for a moment to take in the feel and warmth of Laurent’s oiled skin. 

“I’m afraid that may do more harm than good,” he said after a moment. “It may feel like the provinces are being conquered rather than changed. And knowing Vere, I can see corruption in every aspect of selection and testing, with the same sorry faces rising to the top.”

Their cultures were very different. Damen wasn’t sure they could mesh so easily, especially if Akielon leaders were coming into Vere to take charge. Damen had something in personal experience in that arena. 

“They already think of me as a beast,” Damen said quietly. “If you were to announce this change, they will think you conquered by _me_. That I am seeding you to turn Vere into Akielos. I have not made any such changes to my country, and that is because I have not been here long enough. As you well know, I have been avoiding it, and my arrival here has reminded me why.”

He grinned, leaning in once more to feather his lips at Laurent’s ear. “To think they imagine me ordering you around. I suppose I could enjoy that."

* * *

Damen had not expected Laurent’s decision, and Laurent had not expected impertinence. He turned his head just enough to get Damen into his periphery. He saw there his curls impossibly affected by the steam, weighed down, yet somehow still perfectly waved. Damen’s face was flush, but not in the way Laurent’s must have been.

He was so sensitive to the heat.

Damen looked gorgeous, and Laurent had nearly forgotten it. He needed a painting of Damen, something to keep with him so he would /stop/ forgetting his face, stop forgetting how distractingly attractive he was.

To think /anyone/ would be foolish enough to think this man ordered around /Laurent/. Their love was undeniable, but /obedience/ had been bled from Laurent long ago.

“Who is to say all Kyroi must be of Akielos?” Laurent asked, knowing quite well over centuries of texts dictated just that. “We are reforming a kingdom and its rules. Any man or woman is welcome to compete for their spot in my provincial court. I think Jord would be a fine choice for Alier. A wonderful starting point.”

“They will be conquered by those most apt to govern alongside us,” Laurent reasoned. “By those who keep our kingdom and it’s people protected. The men governing those lands now will not uphold anything I decree, anything /you/ decree, and they will be the bane of their lands, and ultimately, our kingdom.” 

“And you will have to relocate your men,” Laurent went on, not relaxing in the slightest bit. He might as well have been on a pyre, and he would probably be just as hyper focused. “They will need to learn about Veretian land, and my men will have to learn more of Akielos. They can work with each other on this. It will be a slow start, a long process, but it will never begin if we do not start it. What may seem /beastly/ to them now will join them later. They will thank us.” 

* * *

Damen smiled. “I didn’t say they had to be of Akielos,” he corrected. “But bringing in Akielon leadership tp train Veretian leadership? I would be less than willing if I were a Veretian noble.” 

“Our provincal court,” he corrected again, with a grin. Jord would do well, and he would succeed as a kyros. But Damen wasn’t sure he or the others in his country would want the name Kyros given to a Veretian. 

It would be difficult to stomach, and only when certain conditions were met. 

“Jord would be a good choice. But it is not just the title. The kyroi uphold the traditions of the Kingsmeet. It must be properly respected and revered. I will be honest, I have yet to see a Veretian aside from yourself show any level of respect for tradition. I refuse to see Kingsmeet disregarded.”

He could feel Laurent tighten up again, his body resisting any and all comfort. They had been apart too long, usually Laurent was at least somewhat at ease by this point. As at ease as he could get anyway.

“After tonight, they will move to be among your men. Perhaps we should give them a task so they must work together to achieve something.” He made bigger motions with his hands, trying to coax Laurent to give him something of a release in tension. “That is how we came together, after all.”

He gave up on massaging for a moment to hook his arms around Laurent's waist. He pulled him back, ducking his head into the join of Laurent’s neck and shoulder. 

“I lied to you,” Damen murmured, lips moving along damp skin. “When I first massaged you. I had never done it before, but decided to lie so that I would have the chance to touch you.” He smiled against Laurent’s neck. “I was so terrified you would see right though my offer and smite me. Even so, it would have been worth it."

* * *

A task. Laurent could not think of an event cataclysmic enough to make Veretians and Akielons work together willingly. The war on his uncle has been just pressing enough, but it has not been joined willingly by many, and it had been difficult to keep stitched together in many circumstances. That, and of course, the fact there were no impending wars pending. Laurent was not willing to stage one, either.

“When you think of that task,” began Laurent, hands coming up to brace on the edge of the tub while Damen worked through a particularly sore patch of muscle between his shoulders. “Do let me know.”

“And I would also say that the last person I witnessed disregard tradition of the Kingsmeet was of Akielos.”

When Damen pulled him back, Laurent resisted for a moment, thinking Damen would do something as foolish as dunk him under for that response. He was not above it. Laurent distinctly remembered once throwing a pitcher of cold water on Damen and being properly dealt with for it. 

But Damen only pulled him close, and Laurent fit himself into the hold, sighing at Damen’s confession.

“Why would I smite anyone for a lie that I benefitted from?” Laurent asked, turning his head in an attempt to look at Damen, but he was buried quite deep in Laurent’s neck. 

Laurent was still a fortress right now, focused and clear-headed on the work that lay before them. Even he wished he could relax, wished he could allow himself to just enjoy Damen for a moment before this all became even /more/ difficult for them. 

He /needed/ to enjoy this before it got more difficult for them. Damen /needed/ to enjoy this.

And there was a shift in Laurent as he pulled away once more from Damen’s attention to his neck, lifted his chin with a delicate touch to kiss him. It wasn’t the most comfortable position for Laurent, but it wasn’t so uncomfortable that he would stop. 

* * *

Damianos wondered if there would ever be a day where Laurent didn’t resist him at first. It was as if he’d been trained to refuse affections from anyone. Oddly enough, he never seemed able to refuse flirting with visiting nobility. Damen tended to only take it personally when he was in a particularly sorry mood. He knew Laurent loved him dearly, but it was sometimes hard to feel that when in private it took a considerable amount to time to get as physical as Damen wanted to me. 

“Oh please, as if you have not done worse over less,” Damen chuckled. A mere touch of Laurent’s skin in the bath had earned him permanent scarring, after all. But he didn’t bring that up now. 

He didn’t want to let Laurent go, but Damen had learned not to hold him back or the whole moment could end. It was disappointing, though Damen knew better to have expectations. Though he didn’t think it too off to want quality time with his betrothed after months apa—

The kiss was much needed, and Damen found himself deepening it at once. It couldn’t be too comfortable for Laurent, so he moved back to allow him room to turn around. 

“I do not want to talk about planning any more,” Damen murmured against Laurent’s lips. “Not until I have been officially welcomed. Until then, I am a sneaking royal, here to see my king.”

He grinned. “There must be some rule somewhere against working before that."

* * *

“It is a very Veretian-sounding rule,” Laurent agreed thoughtfully, playing at it as if he might make it law. “I imagine in Akielos, it would merely mean offering a drink, but Veretians have very different way of welcoming.” As Damen knew very well...by watching everyone else. Laurent had never quite been naturally in tune with his people.

“Usually.”

He pressed his lips again to Damen’s, brushed the back of his knuckles over Damen’s cheek, up into his hair where he turned it—

And got that grip Damen had alluded to earlier.

Laurent smiled wickedly against Damen’s lips as he gave the curls a sharp tug, fingers bone-white in Damen’s dark hair, smoothing over the back of his skull a moment later.

The room was heady with steam and the scent of oils, and Laurent was, admittedly, a little dizzy. 

They should have been focusing on work, on their kingdoms. They should not be even thinking of welcoming each other right now. They would have plenty of time to do that once they were wed. They should be poring over documents, books, written recordings. They should be catching up on their cultures, finding new ways to blend them.

And yet Laurent only pressed a kiss to Damen’s jaw from where he had forced him back.

“Giant animal,” he murmured fondly against Damen’s skin. 

* * *

“Nonsense, you saw the welcome we got in Marlas,” Damen protested. “We do not simply drink and fight.” He was smiling though, and happily accepted Laurent’s next kiss. And the next after that. They fell into a nice rhythm as Laurent’s hand wandered, and Damen couldn’t help but let out a quiet moan. It had been two months since he’d be touched like this. 

Then Laurent got hold of his hair, and Damen felt himself hardening up immediately. From one little tug to his hair! He let out a grunt when he was wrenched back, but it turned to a breathy smirk, watching Laurent with darkening eyes. 

How he had ever convinced this man to love him, he would never truly know, but he was so glad for it. 

“Careful,” Damen warned teasingly. His hands moved though the water, grabbing Laurent by the ass and yanking him onto his lap, where Laurent would be able to feel just how much Damen wanted him.

“I, for one,” Damen whispered into Laurent’s ear. “Think it would be a wonderful welcome if I got my chance to take you in the baths.” _Without risking a flogging,_ Damen almost joked, but did not. 

He rolled his hips to rub wonderfully against Laurent. 

“Would you have me?"

* * *

Laurent should have expected Damen’s little attack - he’d not exactly tried to make his hands cutting through the water a surreptitious act - but Laurent could not say he was braced at all for when Damen got a hold of him, dragged him into his lap with the ease of weightlessness the water created.

He was met with the immediate realisation that his little hair tug had done exactly what he had wanted it to, and more quickly than expected. 

Laurent reacted to Damen’s interest, and then forced himself back into control, his fingers prodding at Damen’s jaw once more, tilting his head up before grazing his touch along his beloved’s throat, past where his collar had shone brightly the last time they were here. 

His fingers dwelled there for a moment longer, and like Damen’s had, his mind had gone to the last time they’d been together in here, what had happened between them.

Laurent regraded Damen with dark eyes, pleased to have him just as forward as ever. Things were different now - not only between them, but between Laurent and his relationship with intimacy as well. It was flighty, still more rare than he presumed Damen would have liked, but this felt /right/. 

“I would,” said Laurent in Akielon, without the hesitation of the last time they’d been together. “Have you.”

* * *

That was all Damen needed to hear. There was no question this time if this is what they wanted. No hesitation from either side as Damen swept Laurent up in a flurry of kisses, heady and passionate. He hooked an arm around the small of Laurent’s back, bracing him as he moved them both toward the edge of the baths where the bottles of oil still sat. 

It could have been this way from the beginning. So many things could have been different, and this was one Damen seldom thought about but still had wished for. Any other man would have let Damianos pleasure him in the baths, and perhaps if has less disdain for fucking he would have allowed to if only to throw it back in his face later.

He uncorked a bottle—a different scent Damen liked better—and took it with them toward the entrance to the bath. The ground sloped, and soon Damen had Laurent on top of him, still in his lap, trading messy kisses he couldn’t get enough of. This was the welcome Damen had been dreaming of. Laurent’s warm, wet skin, the flush of his cheeks— _Fuck_. 

It wasn’t easy to get the oil on his fingers while so desperately kissing Laurent, but he managed it. The water was shallow enough that Laurent was mostly exposed, and the water made it easier for Damen to slip a finger inside him, then quickly added two. This was not a time for slowing down. 

“Will you let me take you like this?” Damen asked, voice thick with lust as he fucked Laurent with his fingers. “You in my lap, riding me—I want you, Laurent—“ He could think of nothing more satisfying than watching Laurent from this angle, letting Laurent set the pace in fucking him. His cock strained, desperate for friction as he worked his fingers inside his betrothed. 

HIs back was probably going to hurt like hell from rubbing all over the stone beneath him, but he didn’t care one bit. All he could focus on was his pleasure and the lust-drenched look in Laurent’s eyes. 

* * *

Damen had a predilection for throwing new things at Laurent at the last moment during their fucking. He’d told Laurent once that he’d fucked like a virgin, and Laurent was finally getting to a point where he believed himself better than that, and then Damen wanted to throw a new position at him. 

Well, Laurent was not a quitter.

He levelled his hand on Damen’s chest and pushed him back. Laurent could admit where he lacked many of the mannerisms expected of him during coupling, he did feel pretty in tune with the power this position gave him, the control. No one else in Damen’s position probably would have /allowed/ Laurent the power. Most people desired to put him in his place, after all, but not Damen. He just wanted Laurent as he was.

Laurent had the thighs for this, of course, the stamina. The more he sat up there, his hand still holding Damen down, the more comfortable he became with the idea.

Damen’s fingers, along with the heady air and thick steam only made it all the more easy, until Laurent had made up his mind.

“You always ask for permission of me,” he murmured, reaching behind him to take a hold of Damen, stroke his hands over the wet length for a moment. “So thoughtful, Damianos...”

And with that, he began to fill himself with Damen, at his own pace, which was an excruciatingly, slow, controlled movement that lit Damen’s face with all sorts of beautiful emotions that Laurent took in any one of. As he could, anyway. 

* * *

Water lapped at Damen’s ears when he was pressed back, but he continued pressing his fingers deeper into Laurent, breaking down the tension within him. He wasn’t sure what made Laurent so adverse to pleasure, but he hope it left one day. He could see Laurent working through it, deciding whether or not he would oblige. 

He sucked in a breath when Laurent lifted his hips and took Damen’s cock in his hands. It reminded Damen of returning from war—his body always reacted differently to sex. Laurent hadn’t really seen that side of him between his night of fucking the girls from Vask, lowering his drive when he and Laurent first made love. Even now it wasn’t at the pitch it could get to after a war’s worth of fighting, but it was something in the same vein. 

When Laurent began to take him in, Damen was reduced to panting, his cock straining, every part of him begging to turn the tables and mount. The primal nature of it all was never lost on Damianos, and some day he would fuck Laurent that way, when he was ready. 

“Like that,” Damen breathed out, fingers curling at Laurent’s hips. He knew Laurent had never been in this position before—that he preferred being taken from behind. But Damen was determined to show him that this way could be good for them both. 

He bit his bottom lip, thrusting up as best he could. It didn’t really work, but it felt good. 

“It isn’t—a matter of up and down,” Damen did his best to explain. “Equally important is—it is—“

He let out a moan, head tipping back to try to catch his breath just a little. 

“Much like riding with a full seat,” he panted out. “--except I will not move like a horse, so you just preten—more of that, _yes_.”

He knew his fingers were making marks in Laurent’s hips and thighs, and he could not wait to tend to them when this was over, and make as many more as they could. 

* * *

Laurent was a quick learn, and more than that, a good rider. How his most frequented past time had ever prepared him for this, he wasn’t sure he’d ever truly know. Of course he /knew/ of this position, had seen it in the gardens and in many a meeting, and had likened it then to riding a mount, but seeing and believing were two different things. Really, with his natural talent for this position, matched with the control of the pleasure both he and Damen received, this should have been Laurent’s new go-to.

But he didn’t like that Damen could /see/ him.

Laurent, still in /this/, had his face fully schooled when he could. He’d told Damen once that giving up control wasn’t easy, and that didn’t change just because he was in love. It almost made it /more/ difficult then, because Damen already saw him at his vulnerable.

His hands curled into Damen’s chest, Laurent let out a small, unmistakeable sound of pleasure that, for a moment, cleared his thoughts. He closed tight his eyes, ground himself down on that spot inside of him, and there was no surprise that Laurent overdid it for himself and had to back off with a few shallower thrusts, softly panting, but nowhere near as undone as he should be.

Laurent turned his head away as he picked up a new rhythm, finding it easier to pretend Damen wasn’t /staring/ at him if he wasn’t staring right back.

If /anyone/ knew this was how Laurent was in private, it could go one of two ways: The first being no one would believe it, or - much worse - he’d be laughed out. No one would take him seriously, and he just knew it.

Which meant he’d have to beat this out of himself before the wedding ceremony with the council...

Laurent found that spot inside of himself again with Damen’s length, purposefully whiting out his thoughts again.

It was quite effective.

* * *

Damen might have said something if he’ed been able to notice that Laurent wasn’t looking at him, but he wasn’t really looking at Laurent either. No, his head was tipped back, panting as Laurent rode him expertly, as though this wasn’t new for him at all. Damen wasn’t all that versed in it—he had only ever done it with women, and it was mostly because he eather enjoyed watching the way their breasts moved while they were on top of him. 

He began to held Laurent’s downward movement with his hands, and rutted up into him as best he could. Pleasure was so close, yet Damen could tell laurent was holding back on the pace. His movements were just a hair too small, and he wasn’t going to be able to find release in it—pure torture for Damianos. 

“You’d better start properly fucking yourself on my cock,” Damen gritted out. “Or I’ll finish both of us.”

He could not handle being teased like this. As exquisite as it was, he wanted a hot, thorough fuck to remind Laurent of exactly what he had been missing. Exactly what he claimed he’d changed his mind about.

* * *

It was a promising threat, a delicious idea, but Laurent knew Damen would not step over any bounds he had put into place for Laurent. 

Laurent had seen how Damen could fuck. He’s seen him with the women of Vask just go, and go, and go, in a way that really lived up to his beastly nickname. Damen could be absolutely animalistic, an maybe one day, Laurent would experience that first hand, but he was not yet willing to give over /that/ much control.

“I could tell you to stop touching me and you would,” Laurent grit, liking the freedom his hands had in this position. Without Damen’s back exposed, he was able to roam touches wherever he wanted. And just to drive home a point that Damen wouldn’t take any kind of control, that he was the one controlling this, he ran his hand up the length of Damen’s exposed body, over his nipples, where Laurent stayed his hands for a moment as he continued at that pace, and Laurent was, for the moment, /confident/ in this.

Laurent continued the rhythm that was right for him for a little while more, until he was too hot, until his breathing became too laboured, until he was threatening to give into something more, give into handing off control to Damen.

He bowed his head, set his jaw and then a more thorough pace. It was a novice search for a proper rhythm, but Laurent just...did exactly as Damen told him. He arched his back, kept his head down, and rode Damen properly, until he was panting, every downward thrust pushing a sound out of Laurent that only Damen ever got to hear.

His hands curled into fists on Damen’s chest as Laurent bounced on his cock, finally letting his mind go blank as he let his body take over. 

One hand came back to squeeze Damen’s hand on his hip while the other held Laurent upright, pressing Damen down against the sloped floor of the bath. His breathing picked up in pace, his little sounds more frequent—

And Laurent came with his usual near-silent gasp, his control stuttering with his hips and rhythm. 

* * *

“Want to test me?” Damen growled, but it broke to a moan as Laurent’s fingers brushed over his nipples. He had never been particularly sensitive there, but he wasn’t immune, especially in such a heightened state, where his body craved any sort of pleasure he could find. Laurent continued touching him, leaving Damen squirming a little under the touch, the rough texture of stone against his back grounding him a little more. The pace did not increase, so Damen strained to buck his hips up in search of more. 

He felt when Laurent decided to chase his pleasure. There was a small pause, then Laurent began truly riding him and Damen let out a groan, fingers curling into Laurent’s thigh. The sounds were probably the best things Dmane had ever heard, and his eyes remained half lidded to watch as Laurent sought out proper movement and rhythm. He was good at this, and with more practice Damen might find release if Laurent just straddled him properly, no movement required. 

“Just like that,” Damen forced out. “Yes, Laurent—a little more—!”

It was beautiful to watch when Laurent abandoned control and gave himself over to pleasure. Damen was close to release, but determined to watch Laurent cum first. Hands were readjusted, and Damen fought to thrust up until he heard that telltale noise of release. It only took one look at the release spilling from his beloved, one feel of Laurent squeezing around him for Damen to hook himself up on an elbow, his own release pumping hot into Laurent. 

Due to his position, Damen had significantly more energy than usual to milk himself, and fucked up into Laurent with shallow thrusts, quick and needy. 

Damianos was breathing hard, the wet sounds of sex still echoing form the walls as he squeezed every last drop on his release into Laurent. 

“You did well,” Damen purred, wishing he had the strength to sit up properly to kiss him. “I think we will have to revisit soon to ensure you’ve learned properly."

* * *

The moment Laurent’s mind went pleasantly blank, he was so, /so/ relaxed. He let himself have this moment with Damen, let Damen take the time to ride out his orgasm, to pump into Laurent over and over until he was finally spent. Laurent let out a soft sound here and there, but control was coming back to him, the abandon was turning once more into.../Laurent/. He was still holding tight to Damen’s hand, using Damen’s sternum to keep himself upright.

“You're patronizing me,” Laurent breathed softly, but through the composure he was trying to rebuild, he was still shaking in his pleasure. “You’re awfully...mouthy.”

Damen had a lot clearer of a mind than Laurent had right now. Laurent was still basking in the pleasure he’d just received, panting softly as he reworked his brain around it all. Damen was still stuffed inside of him, and Laurent wondered if Damen would allow him to just...sit there a while. There would be nothing useful or efficient in the use of time, but...it sounded nice.

Laurent leaned down for a kiss to shut both his mind and Damen up, and for a while, he did not pull off of Damen. Not until refractory gave him the freedom to do so. 

He let out a quiet grunt at the sudden feeling of openness, but he still managed to move off his beloved so that Damen would have the freedom to move about, and mainly, give his back a break from the rough stone made specifically for traction.

Where Laurent did technically then part from Damen for a moment, he pulled him along not a moment later so they were both in the water again, their bodies still touching down the entirety of their fronts, lips still locked as Laurent lazily ‘cleaned’ Damen off.

He was just looking for an excuse to touch then.

* * *

“Never,” Damen teased just before Laurent’s lips met his. He could feel that Laurent hadn’t fully gotten back to himself, and Damen made sure to hold tightly to him, fingers curling in blond hair as Lauren’t tongue slipped past his lips. He was also aware that he was still very much inside him, and that was surprising, but very much enjoyed. He’d never been able to feel the aftershocks of Laurent’s body—it appeared he was human after all. 

It was only when Laurent finally moved off of him that Damen felt a thousand tiny pricks up the length of his backside as his body finally lifted off the rough stone. Damen didn’t flinch—namely because pleasure still radiated through him, and he was downright dopey with post-coital bliss after so long of having nothing. But the wounds were light-superifical cuts, though unbeknownst to Damen his back was now littered with drops of blood where the little rocks had cut him. It didn’t hurt. 

He followed Laurent deeper into the bath, mesmerized. Open-mouthed kisses, lazy and sweet. He moaned softly when Laurent’s hand moved down his stomach and down to his cock, and even in the sated haze he wanted to take him again, this time slow and meaningful—from behind, the way he liked. 

Damen’s hands moved up Laurent’s chest, one hand pausing to thumb idly over his nipple, then other moving to Laurent’s hair. He curled his fingers into golden hair and gently but firmly pulling him away and tilting his head back so Damen could latch his teeth to Laurent’s neck to suck a mark there on his wet skin. The oil he’d used on his neck actually tasted quite nice, and Damen had a feeling it was designed for that. 

Once he had made three satisfactory marks on Laurent’s neck and throat, he let go of his hair, absolutely loving this easy way of exploring each other. He risked moving his hand to Laurent’s entrance again, massaging the furl of muscle that had already tightened, though he could feel the delicate, swollen skin that made him oddly proud. 

“It’s just you and me,” Damen whispered into Laurent’s ear. “A few moments more and I can fill you again, would you like that?”

Laurent had to want more. Damen could make love to him through the night and still not feel like it was enough.

“Let tonight be ours,” he coaxed between loving kisses. “A few more rounds and you won’t be thinking of that stupid court until tomorrow—and you will ache so sweetly that when we recline together or my welcome, they will not be able disturb you."

* * *

The offer was /quite/ tempting, especially with all the continued attention Damen gave Laurent, keeping his mind at an unfocused fuzz. 

If Laurent /could/ get a whole thought out, it was only that they should be focusing their efforts elsewhere. And every time he thought it, it was brief, lost a few seconds later to the warmth of Damen’s lips on his neck, the intoxicating sensation of being /marked/ by the King of Akielos.

Damen was in a good spot right now, one only made all the easier to move into because Laurent /wanted/ Damen to enjoy himself in Arles, in a way that otherwise might be impossible.

But Laurent didn’t know if he was physically ready to be on the receiving end of one of Damen’s seven hour long fuck feats. 

“Damen...” Laurent murmured in a low, half-hearted warning when he felt his beloved’s calloused fingers back at his entrance. 

Laurent nearly keened for it.

But he pulled himself together not a moment later and shook his head, resolute and firm. The amount of control Laurent could exhibit was astounding.

“You are an insatiable beast.”

Beast. Laurent said it so fondly, even if there was a soft tone of chastisement with it. The Veretians would call Damen that ceaselessly, but if Laurent could claim it was a fond endearment, perhaps he could push ahead.

He kissed Damen softly before tilting his hips in, putting space between his entrance and Damen’s finger.

“I will have nothing else to give you at our union if you keep trying to coax me back, and back, and back into bed,” said Laurent, and he followed it up with a well-placed yawn. 

* * *

Laurent had never been more beautiful, and Damianos had never been more in love. Seeing Laurent so loving and tender made his heart fit to burst with affection. More kisses, more lazily moving his free hand over Laurent’s body while his other continued massaging Laurent’s swollen entrance, fairly certain he was going to get one more round. Laurent /wanted/ more, he could feel it. 

“Laurent,” Damen purred in reply to his own name, fully ready for Laurent to start reacting, those helpless little rolls of his hips that would lead to more. Everyone did it. They couldn’t help what their body wanted, especially in a state like this. Damen thrived off of it—that was how he could last seven hours coupling. He sincerely hoped he would get such a chance with Laurent some day. Someday—

Laurent was ready to be done. Damen was not, and he would keep fighting. They’d never gone for a second round of lovemaking and he could think of no better way to spend time reacquainting. 

“You can’t fool me,” Damen murmured. “An insatiable beast such as myself knows very well how to read my prey.” He loathed being called a beast (obviously) unless Laurent was saying it. From him it made him feel special somehow. 

“You will have plenty to give me,” Damen argued, hands smoothing up the curve of Laurent’s ass. “For the rest of my life. I will always want you in every way, any way.” He pressed kisses at Laurent's jaw, still trying his luck. 

“If it is because you truly do not want it, then I won’t ask. But if it because you feel it’s improper or that—Laurent, you don’t truly think I will somehow love you less because—“ He wasn’t even sure what Laurent was thinking, but he did know that those little comments always indicated something more. 

“You could tell me we will never couple again and I will still choose you. I—“ Surely Laurent didn’t truly think him only interested in sex. “I missed you so much, Laurent. Our time apart—“ His voice trembled for only a moment. “I _love_ you. I want nothing more than that."

* * *

As much as Laurent loved control, it was interesting that he loved Damen as much as he did. Damen had proven himself time and time again to be nothing like the weak slave he had once been handed off as, and since they’d known each other, he’d only become more difficult. He saw through Laurent in a way no one else did, foiled every plan or plot Laurent had. He was horrible for business.

But Laurent loved him so, /so/ much.

And even though he was building back up his walls now, as his mind grew clearer, he was once more building them up with Damen still inside of them. 

Damen was too good a man. So sweet and benign in a way Laurent had never seen in a man. Even Auguste had his Veretian edge to him, and where Laurent loved him still, Damen’s ability to - as he once said - ‘think in a straight line,’ set him apart from every man Laurent had ever known. 

Slowly, Laurent ran his fingers along his betrothed’s gold cuff, eyes downcast as he rearranged his thoughts here.

“You see through me like glass,” Laurent murmured, a faint, barely there smile on his lips, as if the statement were funny at his own expense. It was, to an extent. Where it may have been soft sentiment to Damen, being /seen/ was still something Laurent had to work through and accept. Damen’s had hit every little worry and underlying meaning of Laurent’s statements on the head.

Well, almost all of them.

“Not in here,” Laurent finally groaned, giving way to what Damen had asked as if finally breaking down to giving a child a toy. “You may have the will to withstand this heat, but /I/ am cooking.” 


	7. Part II: Gold (19.1.20)

Damen watched quietly as Laurent sorted through his thoughts, those pale fingers moving along his golden cuff. He had been thinking about suggesting that they be removed at the wedding. Or slightly before to be melted down and turned into their wedding rings, and perhaps the rest could be used to inlay their new thrones. Given that slavery was ending closely after their union, it would be a fitting symbol. 

“It is my duty to see through you,” Damen murmured. “You are to be my husband.”

His soft smile spread to a wide grin, easily excited by the promise of another round in the bedroom. He wished Laurent had attached these baths to his chambers so they didn’t have to bother with clothing to return to his room. He leaned forward and kissed Laurent’s red cheek, then took his hand and led him from the baths. 

“You are the one who likes your water scalding,” Damen reminded him as he picked up his chiton. He offered it to Laurent. “Wear this, and I will cover up with my cloak. I refuse to lace you up again or I will cut through those vile things every time I see you in them.”

A threat he would be glad to follow through on if Laurent decided to test it. He loved the way Laurent looked in lace, but his pale body with nothing on it was much better. 

He still did not believe this man was to wed him. He could think of nothing more wonderful in all the kingdoms. 

* * *

His husband. Laurent blushed at the very sentiment, grateful for the camouflage the heat offered him. They never put it so outright like that, but if there was anything Damen excelled at, it was being straightforward. Laurent admired it immensely.

Laurent regarded the chiton for a moment before, surprisingly, handing it back. More surprisingly even, he did not pick up his Veretian clothing, nor did he go for the cloak. Wearing a chiton in Vere was the equivalent of being naked, and being naked was for pets, and honestly, Laurent didn’t care. The paths of least resistance said he could make it from here to his chambers naked and he would be /fine/.

Only Jord would see him. Lazar if he had returned.

Laurent held his head high as he led Damen to the bath chambers’ door and out into the hallway.

Jord did his best to school his expression.

Lazar couldn’t.

“Your majesties,” Lazar greeted, bowing to hide his expression. Jord followed suit.

“Did you part with Pallas so soon?” Laurent asked as he passed. Jord opened the door for them.

“I would not keep him from his duties,” Lazar responded, still bowed.

“And yet you shirked yours,” Laurent responded evenly, toneless and dry.

He shut the door behind them.

And it didn’t show, but his heart was hammering. That still felt...very wrong. And it had been wrong! But he was the king, and who would tell him otherwise? 

* * *

Nudity in Akielos wasn’t uncommon, though unlike what Veretians thought, it wasn’t as if Akielons waltzed around without clothing during the day. In Vere, however, it was very much uncommon, and Damen had only ever seen slaves and pets naked with anyone else around unless someone was being pleasured in the gardens. Laurent had only ever been nude in the baths and in the privacy of his chambers. Of course, he never seemed to mind when servants saw him naked, but stepping out of the baths without clothing was not something Damen had ever imagined Laurent to do /here/.

“Are you—?” He followed, Laurent’s hand in his as they stepped out into the much colder hall. Jord and Lazar were waiting, and Damen could read the shock in the way their shoulders hung. Damianos was shocked himself, wandering being Laurent as if lost until they reached his chambers again. The door shut behind them before Damen had a chance to respond about Pallas. 

When he finally regained himself, Damen was grinning wide, beyond proud and beyond flattered that Laurent would do such a thing for him. 

“Like our time at the summer palace,” Damen murmured happily, overwhelmed with fondness. He didn’t care one bit about walking these halls in the nude. Everyone here had seen him naked. He smoothed back Laurent’s damp hair and kissed him with equal parts love and passion. 

“To bed?” he asked against Laurent’s mouth. “Or are you still feeling brazen?

* * *

The kiss called Laurent’s heart and put him back at ease. There was nothing to be worried about, Laurent knew, but it had been an exhilarating little journey.

He would never do it again.

“I have something for you,” said Laurent, fingers still in Damen’s as he moved just far enough to open a fine, carved box on his desk. 

It was filled with a myriad of small trinkets that were /very/ unlike Laurent to own. Fine jewels, hair pins, little starbursts that used to adorn Laurent’s hair when he was a young prince. The finer pieces of decor from his ascension were in their own compartment, right alongside a familiar line of blue - an earring of sapphires.

Laurent turned a moment later, delicately holding the ruby earring he’d bought from Cylan’s pet. He smirked at Damen, holding it aloft, wondering just what he would do with it. 

* * *

Laurent was not a man for gifts. Damen thought it a self-preservation measure the closer he had come to him. Gifts were a symbol of the person who had gifted them. So to receive one from Laurent was odd, unexpected, and beyond flattering to Damen. He peered over Laurent’s shoulder at the box, watching with quiet curiosity as the box was opened. 

Akielos did love gold, but there jewelry was rather simple in comparison to Vere. Gemstones were not commonly used, but Damianos had many—almost all were gifts from other countries accumulated over generations. They were locked away and kept under guard—the most prized pieces at Kingsmeet. 

So he was nonetheless shocked to see Laurent’s hoard. He recognized many of the pieces—most from his ascension, and Damen was very glad to have gotten a portrait or two commissioned of that day when Laurent had been bathed in gold and white and more beautiful than Damen had ever seen him. That day had been filled with nothing but happiness and warmth, and deep love for each other, fresh from their trip with Charls. 

He also knew exactly where those rubies had come from. Damen fought the urge to ask just how Laurent had acquired the earring, but decided he didn’t want to know. 

“So you’d like me as your pet tonight?” Damen asked, lips curled to a sly grin. He’d played much more demeaning games in the bedroom with Jokaste, though he would never admit it. And Laurent would never think to turn this against him. At least, Damen hoped he wouldn’t. 

His ears weren’t pierced, but Damen plucked the earring from Laurent and hooked it over the top of his left ear as Laurent had done at the inn. 

“Any more jewels, your majesty?"

* * *

This had not /meant/ to be a game for Laurent - Damen knew well how much Laurent hated jewels and innocuous sparkle. The earring had been a joke, but now that it was dangling from Damen’s ear, Laurent had been right to think he would like absolutely fetching in rubies. 

But Laurent would not make Damen his pet. No, that would be disrespectful to the King of Akielos and not a place Laurent would want Damen’s head to be in—

So Laurent took the sapphire earring and hooked it into his own pierced ear with a satisfied little smirk, mentioning only, “We match.”

Though Laurent knew good and well he had another box of more recognisable jewels that Damen would remember from his stay as Laurent’s bed slave. Now wasn’t the time, but...perhaps it would be a fun game in the future. People did play those in the bedroom, and Laurent knew Damen had a certainty affinity for being told what to do in the bedroom.

Laurent could not see himself ever enjoying that.

He did not believe.

“Only one other,” Laurent did say a moment later, snatching something out of the box before closing it and pushing it back into its resting spot.

Then, Laurent turned and pushed one of the silver starbursts into Damen’s curl, pushed it up and out of his face and secured it. 

There. It couldn’t bother Laurent there. 

* * *

Damen grinned wider when Laurent put the sapphire earring on his own ear. The thought of playing another role had been intriguing, though the most they had ever done was Laurent teasing him while he was Lamen, whispering things in his ear and giving him merchant assistant tasks knowing full well Damen had no idea what he was doing. But the fact that Laurent wouldn’t even allow him to play as a pet in the privacy of their own chambers reminded him of the way Laurent could be so protective of him. 

He cocked a brow as something was pushed into his hair, something that nested in his curls and stayed there. 

“What is it?” he asked, turning to look in the mirror close by. 

It was strange to see rubies dangling at his ear (very Veretian, he thought), but more surprising was the starburst. It contrasted wonderfully with his dark hair, and reminded him of the flowers they had tucked in each other’s hair in summer—foolish courting things that Damen adored when it came to Laurent. 

“Yours?” he asked, though of course it was. He brought up a hand, delicately touching the clip. 

His smile twitched, eyes full of fondness as he turned back to Laurent. 

“My gift for you is here, but I will present it at my welcoming. It is not nearly so valuable.”

He pressed a kiss to Laurent’s temple, arms winding around him. But one hand almost immediately went up to Laurent’s earring, fingering the blue jewels. “How fitting that the greatest treasure of a king of Akielos would be found here, where the ground is frozen over and the sun sets before supper.”

* * *

Is this where I am to say you are gift enough?” Laurent teased, taking back his spot in Damen’s arm with a look that said he very well would have meant it if he said it. Laurent tilted his head so that Damen could keep a gentle touch on his own earring. He wouldn’t want anything to happen to it....

In a thoughtless action, Laurent mirrored Damen and ran his own fingers delicately along the earring in his lover’s ear, something working through his mind, but nothing he was willing to dwell on or say out loud. What mattered was that he had been right about the rubies, and now, he was able to take a moment to bask in that. 

Seeing his symbol up in Damen’s dark hair made him smile as well. 

Damen was to be his husband...

“You are so big,” Laurent murmured not a moment later in careful Akielon, only because he did not want to use the wrong term for ‘big’ and insult Damen, even in his most harmless side thought. He felt he’d almost strained his neck staring /up/ at Damen’s hair, and the thought - and it’s careful processing - had come out naturally. 

His admiration for Damen in all aspects emotional, mental, /and/ physical, was immeasurable.

“/My/ giant animal...” 

* * *

Damianos tilted his head in kind, watching the way the rubies ever so slightly reflected in Laurent’s eyes in the warm light of the braziers and lamps. He saw that Laurent was in quiet thought, and he did nothing but thumb at Laurent’s hip, his other hand gently framing Laurent’s jaw, resting on his neck. His marks from the bath were still there, and Damen realized that Jord and Lazar might have seen them. 

Good. 

He laughed at Laurent’s comment, not only because it was so unexpected. Laurent’s choice of wording was correct—so was his sentence—but the common usage was more to describe the size of a man’s cock than it was his height. Laurent was so adorable. And Damianos also knew both contexts applied to him, so he felt his ego adequately fluffed. 

“You did miss me,” Damen purred, thumbing Lauent’s jaw. He leaned in, pressing a loving kiss to Laurent’s sweet lips, still swollen from all of their kissing in the baths. A shiver ran through him just after their lips parted, and it was not from the emotion of the moment. He smiled apologetically. 

“I suggest we decide what we are doing next, before your giant animal freezes to death."

* * *

Laurent could tell he had said something wrong, but not wrong enough to offend Damen, it seemed. Laurent spoke most fluently in insults and lewd comments when it came to Akielon, but he had been practicing for over a year now. It would be easier when his speaking partner was not a whole kingdom away.

Whatever he had done, it went over well, and Laurent found the will to smile as well, for he /had/ missed Damen. More than he’d been able to show or say, but...he’d done something right.

He kissed Damen there in the middle of the room, his own body warmed by the closeness and the fire that /could/ use some stoking, but had not yet gone out. Laurent was more than a little amused when that proved not enough for the King of Akielos.

“Remind me,” Laurent began, rubbing his hands too slowly up and down Damen’s large arms to generate heat, “To wage war against Akielos in winter should this union end unfavourably.”

Laurent left Damen’s side then, went into the chest next to the fireplace and produced a fur and two lounging pillows for himself and Damen, which he laid out next to the fireplace. Laurent’s room had been built and stocked for the convenience of a servant to tend to him, and even within the chest of furs and a few more wooden boxes, a phial of oil caught the firelight.

“We /could/ put clothes on,” Laurent offered, standing there before the fire, far enough away to /not/ cook again. “It would be the wise thing to do.” 

* * *

“It won’t work,” Damen chuckled in Veretian, “we would thrive on the heat of battle.” Tonight was proving to be a much better welcome than he’d originally anticipated, and he was happy to have Laurent in a way he wasn’t used to seeing. He watched as the King of Vere started rummaging through service trunks, producing a thick fur that looked far too big to have fit in the trunk it came from, along with pillows to recline in. 

They didn’t know how to skin hares, but they did know how to care for themselves in the realm of their lives as royalty. Damen had originally thought Laurent to be a man so arrogant and self-obsessed that he wouldn’t know the first thing about where his furs and pillows were kept, how to stoke a fire, or anything that involved work of any kind. 

He just didn’t like to think of how he may have learned to do it in the company of his wretched uncle as a little boy, unsuspecting and malleable. 

“I thought we discussed this,” Damen said, pupils blown wide at the sight of Laurent nude before the fire. He couldn’t hide the way his body felt about that, either. He strode closer, hair still tucked bak with a starburst, rubies dangling at his ear. “We’re doing what we want this evening, not what is proper /or/ wise.”

His hands moved to Laurent’s hips, rubbing slowly up and down. 

“You look perfect in firelight,” Damen murmured, walking behind Laurent to be closer to the fire. At least, that was what he made it to look like before he was pressed against Laurent’s back, lips feathering kisses down his shoulder. “Why would I ever want to ruin such a sight with clothing?”

He pressed himself against his beautiful king, hands busying at pebbled nipples. 

“I want to take it for myself. I want to be inside you, Laurent,” he said, slipping into Akielon without fully realizing it. He grinned. “Perhaps I will be big then, too."

* * *

Laurent leaned back into Damen as he was preened, leans into his hold, and steadied himself when warm, calloused fingers found his nipples, when he felt Damen against his back. Damen was crowding Laurent with his massive stature—

Not that Laurent was complaining.

He let his head fall to the side, arched his back just enough that Damen would know he was right in what he was doing. Laurent would not be pushing him away anytime soon. In fact—

Oh, /that/ was what Laurent had said wrong. 

The moment Damen made the comment about his size, Laurent rolled his eyes to hide what the statement might have otherwise done to him. He’d used the wrong form of the word large and had unwittingly made a cock joke.

Well, Laurent had plenty of those in his Akielon vocabulary.

“You will undoubtedly be big then,” Laurent muttered, accepting his slip up for what it was. “And I will take it as a compliment.”

Laurent let out a little hum when the attention to his nipples struck a certain chord in him, his hands going up to rub the length of Damen’s arm to his hands, urging him on.

He’d built back his walls with Damen inside of them once more. There was nothing to break down this time.

“You’ll take me from behind,” Laurent told Damen pointedly, not wanting to be pulled out of this this time. “As many times as you want. But you will only speak Akielon. Do you understand, Damianos?” 

He might as well learn something while he was here. 

* * *

Damen wasn’t used to being encouraged so plainly. Laurent arched against him, taking the breath right from Damen’s throat as he continued touching and rubbing, building heat between them. There was no need for hesitation now—Laurent was responding the way most did when met with attention in this way. 

“I understand,” he replied in Akielon. He liked the sound of it better in the bedroom, though Veretian was his language for Laurent. The fact that he felt comfortable between the two indicated how much he had given to the man before him, and how comfortable they were together. 

“To your knees then,” Damen said, edging close to a command. He pressed two loud kisses to Laurent’s neck before turning and pulling the vial of oil he’d seen in one of the trunks, giving it a quick sniff to make sure it was indeed fresh and not oil for another purpose that would hurt (he had dealt with that before on a similar occasion). 

Damen moved to his knees, appearing to wait patiently for Laurent, though his cock was very obviously against that idea. He had the sense that Laurent had just given him permission to take charge here, to show Laurent a new kind of lovemaking that was not all tumbling into shallow ruts, gentle kisses. He had also been permission to go as many times as he wanted, and Damen could think of nothing that would please him more than to get his fill of Laurent. 

He intended to show Laurent his many talents. 

“Has anyone ever used their mouth on you before?” Damen asked, knowing full well that the answer was no. He moved over to him, hands wandering up Laurent’s thighs, over his hips. “I think you would take pleasure in it. I have never been on the receiving end, but I am told you will be able to think of nothing else while I am busy with you.” 

* * *

There was the slightest hesitation from Laurent, but only because of his usual unwillingness to get on his knees. He seemed to weigh out the option, staring down at the floor for a mere second before deciding to do.../something/. He wasn’t in the mood to think /too/ much about it, but he also didn’t want to be pushed out of this.

So he did Damen one better without bringing to his attention that Laurent was not technically kneeling.

Laurent grabbed you the pillow and held it, laid his head atop his arms and the pillow and prostrated himself so his ass was high in the air, his back one long line to the floor where he lay, looking more than comfortable. He moved his hair around to one side, so that it was out of his way should he want to look back at Damen.

He wiggled his rear in an enticing little motion as he had seen so many pets do before.

He liked hearing what it did to Damen.

“My cock is not necessarily in the position to be swallowed,” Laurent responded dryly, thinking back to both the time where Damen had sucked him off and he had sucked Damen off. It had been a huge decision for Laurent to make. Surely Damen had not forgotten—

Unless.

Laurent turned, fully onto his back, and pushed up onto his elbows, eyebrow raised, face void.

“You intend to pleasure me like a woman,” he said, not necessarily complaining or rejecting he idea, but gauging that he was correct in his assumption. 

* * *

Damen bit his bottom lip to keep from laughing at Laurent’s response. He had forgotten what it was like to be with someone so virginal—sometimes it made him feel dirty, other times like he was lucky to be the one to teach Laurent new things. But Laurent was no witless maiden sent off to be married as it was in some nations. The way he wriggled just slightly int he firelight did things to him he was powerless to stop. 

He wanted to throw his suggestion aside and mount; rut like he ached to until Laurent was flushed with pleasure and filled with his release. He nearly did it—and probably would have had Laurent not rolled over, lazy like a cat, almost bored. Damen knew he was not, though. 

“Well, no,” Damen said, allowing himself to chuckle softly. “I find it easier to pleasure a woman when she lays like you are now.” Sometimes he wondered if Laurent ever regretted not lying with one, just to see what it was like. “For you, I would do it as you were before.”

“It isn’t necessarily common in Akielos, but neither are good male lovers. And no one as good as I am.” He spoke proudly, because he was confident in his abilities. Damen himself only did it when he felt his bed partner was not fully sated, or when they tired of fucking, when they thought they had seen everything of their then-Prince. 

He crawled over Laurent’s body, unable to keep away any longer. His cock hung thick between them as Damen started fussing at Laurent’s neck, taking him into his mouth and sucking there, one hand moving to his own cock to harden him up completely. It was amazing what two month apart could do—he felt nearly blinded with need. 

Damen pulled off with a wet sound, releasing his length to push himself up, admiring the darkening mark he’d just put. Laurent would be covered before the night was through. 

“I don’t believe lovemaking to be a chore,” he said, his Ios accent thick as his desire. It wasn’t accusatory, but Laurent had never gone more than one round with him. “Perhaps I can convince you to see it as I do. This would help, I think. If you don’t like it, then I will stop and fuck you properly."

* * *

Damen was /bold/ to say he was a good male lover. Laurent would argue he was an exceptional one, but he was not here to argue the point.

Laurent did not want to picture Damen pleasuring a woman. He knew his betrothed was quite skilled at it, had seen it quite enough on their last Vaskian visit. Laurent knew Damen was well versed in all facets of fucking, and Laurent did not need to be reminded of the night that Damen had told him he fucked like a virgin. Laurent prided himself in /not/ having that thought about him by anyone.

It wasn’t what Laurent had /intended/ to learn, but he supposed it was something worth learning.

Damen /had/ been quite convincing with his kissing, after all. 

Laurent would be pocked with marks tomorrow.

It took a few seconds longer for Laurent to fully translate what had been said. His Akielon was quite good, but he understood the latter bit more than the promise that came before.

“This /does/ keep you from speaking Akielon with me,” Laurent noted as he turned back onto his stomach, presented himself confidently despite the fluttering in his his chest. This was a wall he’d not even realised he’d have to break down, but he was hiding is nerves quite well. 

“But go on. Do what /you/ think is worthwhile with your tongue.”

* * *

“I will speak plenty later,” Damen promised. He thought Laurent’s confidence gave him away, because it was very obvious he’d never done this before. Anything new in the bedroom always came with some nerves—Damianos himself was nervous. He wanted Laurent to like this, and he felt is was something good for distracting him. Not only that, it also involved Damen not looking at him at all, which meant Laurent was free to be himself. Completely free. 

“You may speak as much as you like. I’ll be sure to correct any mistakes,” Damen said with a smirk as he moved into position. 

He let his hands wander Laurent’s cool skin, up the backs of his thighs and over the curve of his rear. It did not escape him that Laurent had done his best not to go to his knees in the usual fashion. They were both still wary of kneeling—Damen might be angry about it if he weren’t so guilty himself. 

His movement were slow as his hands came into position to spread Laurent open, only admiring for a moment before he moved himself down. It took him a moment to move, because he was so afraid Laurent might change his mind before he’d even begun, and Damen worried that he would somehow be bad at this despite ample practice. 

But instead of stopping, he spread Laurent wider and tongued at the tight muscle of Laurent’s entrance. He worked at a spot, massaging with his tongue for a few long moments. He could taste his own release still lingering, and the though was so erotic that he shivered slightly. Laurent had walked right past Jord and Lazar with Damianos’ seed still inside him. His ego had never been more bolstered. 

He just hoped Laurent was enjoying it too. 

* * *

Laurent kept his eyes closed, trusted Damen fully with this, gave himself up in the only way Laurent was comfortable with. Damen would take care of him, Laurent knew, even in matters lewd and hedonistic. What they were doing was an act strictly for pleasure, with no sense of efficiency or otherwise /need/ about it. It was a useless act that Laurent was beginning to change his mind about.

It wasn’t that he was worried or anything. It was merely that Damen was just /holding him open/. Laurent’s thighs fought to tremble, but he wouldn’t allow them. He bit down on his lip, tried to just accept that he was on full display for Damen. He nearly wished Damen could see his face over what he was staring at now—

But Laurent changed his mind after the second swipe of Damen’s tongue over his entrance.

The first one left him to gasp, involuntary, but the second one, he melted right into, even seating himself back a little further for better contact.

Laurent didn’t have the Akielon words for this.

Damen’s tongue was, at no surprise, as strong and straightforward as the rest of him, and Laurent was - willingly - at his mercy. He fully did not know what to do with his hands, so they were clenched and knotted in the fur, his face buried in his arms, and Laurent managed out a string of Akielon curses, accented poorly with the way his mind came and went.

He tried to school his reaction twice, but failed spectacularly both times. 

The first time, he’s tried to relax himself and look merely comfortable, but in doing so, a shudder made it through his body, giving him away almost instantly. The second time, he’d spread his thighs wider, confidently pushing up onto his hands to look back at Damen—

And he groaned aloud when he /saw/ Damen burying his tongue inside of Laurent’s body.

He put his face back into his arms, tried to just hold it together. 

* * *

So it was working. Damen fought not to grin as Laurent relaxed into him, clearly pleasured. He decided he wanted to do this every time, because it seemed to be something that was unwinding Laurent in a new way. 

Had Laurent ever been pleasured solely for his own benefit before? Likely not. Damen was happy to do it. 

His fingers curled into Larent’s thighs, holding him in place as Damen expertly adjusted his angle and pushed his tongue inside. It was truly something else to be this intimate with Laurent, and Damen wanted to cherish it forever. Thus, he began slowly tongue fucking, pushing his jaw forward to rub and add weight where he knew it would count. 

Laurent was actually coming apart from his mouth alone. Damen felt as if he’d stumbled upon some magical power as he worked mercilessly at Laurent’s hole. He gripped Laurent a little harder and spread him even wider, letting out a hum when he was fully deep inside, sending a deep vibration right where he knew it would bring the most exquisite pleasure. 

He would make Laurent cum just from this, he decided. Show him not to doubt. 

* * *

At one point, Laurent got himself back under control, but it was a thin hold, feeble only because Laurent wanted it to be. Laurent had, admittedly, never been just pleasured before. He’d had mouths on his cock, but even that usually came with the expectation of reciprocation, and that alone usually out Laurent in a strange headspace. But this was new and specifically for /him/, and he knew it. Damen wanted to take care of /him/. It was foolish, selfless, and so very, very Damianos.

The moment Damen’s tongue pushed into him, Laurent hadn’t even known he’d wanted it. His body tensed for a moment, but when he felt the warmth, the absolute intimacy, Laurent arched deeper and let a sharp breath out of his nose before he bit his lip and pressed his forehead into the fur beneath him. His thighs shook and betrayed him of his otherwise put together demeanour.

Which would not last long if Damen kept this up.

He held for as long as he could, his body moving without his consent, but at least they were slow, deliberate movements, graceful and sharp like would be expected of Laurent. He sat back against Damen, kept his breathing deep and slow, watched the fire if he needed to ground himself again.

And then he had his third and largest slip up.

Damen pushed out the smallest, quietest, cut off little “Pl—“ out of Laurent, and he swallowed it down so quickly, he nearly choked on it. He had been keening under Damen’s tongue, his own cock hanging heavy between his opened thighs, and Laurent needed a break /then and there/.

“Enough, Damianos,” he said in breathy Akielon, the order not lacking its usual strength. He needed to move things along before he did lose his last semblance of control. “I can take you now. I need you now.

* * *

Oh, Laurent was enjoying this. Damen had to use every ounce of willpower to stop himself from smirking. He was good at saving face, but Damen was better at /this/. He knew he had the power to bring Laurent to release from his tongue alone, and judging by the sounds and movements against his mouth, Laurent wasn’t far off. So he kept working, fucking with his tongue in practiced motions, knowing full well the slight stubble on his jaw was rubbing at Laurent’s sensitive skin in new ways. 

He paused for only a heart beat when he nearly heard “ _please_ ” spill from Laurent’s lips. The little sound he /had/ made went straight to Damen’s cock. He hummed his approval again, trying to coax more like that out of the man he loved. 

But it seemed he had pushed too much too fast and while he wanted to keep going just to see Laurent come undone, he did register that Laurent never said anything without meaning it. 

With one last flick of his tongue, Damen pulled away, jaw aching pleasantly. He gave Laurent his time to breathe as he poured oil onto his fingers and slicked himself with a generous amount. He did plan on getting his fill of Laurent tonight, and wanted him sore but not in pain tomorrow. 

“You lasted long than I thought you would,” Damen teased, breathing heavier now. He moved behind Laurent again, one hand braced in his back while the other held his cock guiding it to Laurent’s entrance. 

But he wasn’t interested in talking it over now. He had Laurent where he wanted him. So he pushed inside, easily sheathing himself where Laurent had already been stretched open in the baths. 

“Big enough?” he asked breathlessly. He didn’t wait for an answer before starting into a steady rhythm, not gentle but not rough. A moan escaped him early, overwhelmed by just how good it felt to be inside of him. 

The angle Laurent had taken up made a surprisingly good one for him to fuck into, and soon enough Damen was pushing deeper, thrusting faster, eager for release. He couldn’t help it. 

But before he could forgot, he curled his fingers into Laurent’s blond hair and tugged his head back, groaning softly when he saw that earring swaying in time with them, light dancing in the room. Laurent had made a mistake: he was never going to be sated so long as Laurent was his prize. 

* * *

Damen, as generous as he was, gave Laurent those few moments he needed to find himself again, and he breathed through those slow moments of Damen slicking himself. He curled and uncurled his fists in the fur, rocked and replaced his knees in a more stable position on the floor, kept his torso down low, and readied himself.

He always prepared for fucking as he did for battle - Methodically and realistically. He was better about it now, as the proverbial ‘storming the fort’ was not necessary in this moment, but even with his defences down, Laurent was still...Laurent.

Even as prepped as he was, his breathing hitched when Damen filled him again, as if he’d forgotten just how wonderful it felt to have Damen /so/ close to him. He even let out a brief smile, something like a laugh at Damen’s ridiculous question.

“Almost too big,” Laurent breathed in Akielon, glancing back cockily for see what that comment would do to Damen. Laurent found it more entertaining than commenting that Damen fit into him perfectly.

Laurent moved into a rhythm with Damen pretty quickly. His head bowed as he felt the actual /length/ of Damen. Usually, they rutted quite closely, so to feel him actually pull out and push fully into Laurent was quite pleasing. Laurent bit his lip to keep Damen from getting too cocky.

But even that he could only uphold for so long.

When Damen took that handful of Laurent’s hair into his fist, Laurent groaned, pushing up onto his hands to rock against Damen. And when even that was not enough, Laurent /finally/ gave in.

Which meant he took control to help them both. /That/ was Laurent’s way of giving in.

Similar to riding Damen, Laurent angled his body at a slightly different angle and bounced back against Damen pointedly, pulling his muscles snug in a way Damen had once told him to. With a snarky, breathy, “Tight enough?” in the most perfect Akielon he could muster, Laurent gripped the fur and continued fucking himself onto Damen, seeing what he thought was the end in his sights. 

* * *

Damianos was used to taking control, having it handed to him. Especially in the bedroom. He sometimes had to prove himself as the person who should be in charge, but always kept it. Not with Laurent, not this time. First, he got right up on his hands instead of sinking to his elbows or just straight into the pillow. Laurent was not going to give up to his pleasure in a normal way. 

He let out a choked noise when Laurent used his angle to rock back against him so Damen could hit a point deeper than even he expected. Not only that, but Laurent was squeezing him, so tight that Damen could see stars behind his eyelids as they fluttered. 

“Yes,” he gasped, tugging Laurent’s hair again. His other hand was at Laurent’s hip, gripping as tight as he could to—

“Laurent, I—“ Damen abandoned his plan, bent himself over Laurent and began fucking harder, grinding himself deeper each time Laurent pushed back into him, seeking more heat, more friction, more power. It was building inside him but he wanted to prolong it, even as he desperately sought release. 

He swore in Akielon, tugging his hair again as he thrust up inside at another perfect angle and was pushed over the edge. He spilled hot into Laurent, groaning low, covered in sweat and the musky scent of sex. 

His fingers slipped out of Laurent’s hair to curl around his cock, stroking him languidly in time with the rolls of his hips as he milked himself through orgasm. His lips wandered over the side of Laurent’s neck, open mouthed and full of gasping, desperate sounds. He was hopelessly in love. Absolutely hopeless. 

* * *

Laurent’s power wavered when Damen switched their position and fully covered Laurent with his body, overtaking him in more ways than one. Laurent had to put some strength behind keeping himself up, and even more so in keeping himself together. 

Now, Laurent wasn’t a stiff in bed. When it came to times like these, he did enjoy himself. Maybe it was only in a way Damen understood, but despite Laurent’s more than restrained sounds, he /was/ enjoying this. 

His breathing was shallow, audibly breathy, and the way he bravely brought one hand up to clutch at Damen’s crushing grip at his hip showed he /wanted/ it there. 

Laurent switched into his natural Veretian as he climbed to climax, still pushing back against Damen, his own fist working his cock until, finally, it all rushed over him, with a gasp just /slightly/ louder than her let out in the baths.

“Oh, Damen—“ he mumbled, a groan tapering off the end as his hand was batted away and his betrothed took to stroking him. Laurent let him have at it, more than happy to have this moment.

He felt something drip down the inside of his leg, and he couldn’t be sure if it was oil or Damen’s saliva from his earlier work on Laurent’s insides—

A moment later, he knew /exactly/ what it was.

Damen released hot into him for the second time tonight, and Laurent didn’t care what was expected of him tomorrow, he would be participating in /nothing/ that involved his riding a horse. 

* * *

There was something holy about Laurent after he found release. Everything went quiet in Damen’s mind, and he could only register things that had to do with his beloved. The muscle of his shoulders, strong and much more relaxed than a few hours ago. He felt each breath expand Laurent’s ribcage, heard the shallow breaths against the pillow, that little gasp still echoing in his ears. 

“Darling,” Damen murmured, still nestled deep inside him with no plans to pull out. He smoothed Laurent’s damp hair back behind his ear, nibbling there before just peppering him with kisses. “I love you so much, and my heart is yours completely.”

He decided it was his turn to clean up, because he wanted Laurent to bask in pleasure for just a few moments more. 

“Come here,” he whispered between more kisses to Laurent’s neck. He slowly—slowly—pulled out, grunting softly at the loss of Laurent’s tightness around him. He turned him over, gazing with pure affection down at Laurent. He leaned in, kissing him sweet and long. 

“Now stay. I mean it, Laurent.”

He stood up and walked directly to a place he knew, because he had been once forced to know the whereabouts of anything Laurent’s pleasure slave might need. Of course, he’d never used any of it—or seen it, actually. But sure enough, there was a box on one of the bookshelves, at the bottom. Small cleaning cloths, soft as silk, perfumes, a vial of colored water. 

He poured some water on one of the cloths and returned to Laurent, wiping him clean. When that was finished, he cleaned himself off and tossed the cloth aside.

“It’s time I took proper care of you,” Damen said quietly, almost melancholy as he picked up the cloths he’s just thrown down. _“Fold them when you are finished, set them back inside the box—sideways, like this. Incorrect—again!”_

He set the cloths aside, carefully this time, and reclined beside Laurent. The pin in his hair had loosened, so it hung awkwardly in his curls. His earring was still there, he noticed with a wince as he brought a hand up to his face to hold himself up. 

“Tell me how it was for you."

* * *

He forced Damen to kiss him for a long while after they finished, as that was Laurent’s favourite part of it all. He loved the short, breathy kisses, loved peppering them all over Damen, and having them returned. It was a softness Laurent never feared to show, and one Damen could always dissolve him into.

Laurent could have gone a while longer without Damen pulling out of him. It was always the most uncomfortable part of it all, like releasing the stopper from a vial. It was the only part where Laurent ever felt ashamed of what they did...and even then, he hardly felt that anymore. Not with Damianos. Now he just felt like he needed to clean up—

His back was pressed to the fur, and he was stuck looking up at Damen, perplexed by the order for only a moment before his lips broke into a smirk. Damen knew him too well, but he was about to benefit from it, he supposed.

“/Now stay/,” Laurent mocked quietly, sweetly, practicing the new Akielon order he’d just learned. He’d use it later.

He watched Damen as he moved about the room in a familiar fashion, still laid out on the fur on the floor, his head nestled in the two pillows. Damen was absolutely gorgeous by firelight, and Laurent’s heart ached with the love he felt. 

He couldn’t help but smile as Damen returned, not at all bothered by the tone Damen took for a moment there.

“I felt wholly and properly cared for,” Laurent said pointedly, reaching up to play with the dangling chain of rubies. “Filled, sated, dirty, but without complaint. I love the way you feel, Damianos. I love the way you make me feel.” He pulled Damen in for a sweet kiss, mindful of how red and swollen his beloved’s lips were. Laurent ran his finger over them, trying not to think of the lewd things the king of Akielos had just done with that mouth.

There were these moments after sex that were the equivalent of Laurent being intoxicated, where he shared, and if the conversation went in the right direction, at the right speed, he didn’t stop. But unlike with his drunken states, he did have a filter in these moments. And they were brief. So brief.

Damen had been wise to do the cleaning. It gave him a few more moments of Laurent like /this/. 

“Think of all the heirs you waste inside of me,” Laurent murmured with that same sated smile, find as could be, leaning up for another kiss before letting his fingers slip away from the earring to rest on Damen’ cheek. The stubble there was rough under his fingertips, and Laurent lamented for his entrance for a moment. “Great kings of Akielos, lost to Vere.” Another soothing kiss, another long moment of introspection.

“I have never been so in love,” Laurent said quietly a moment later—

And he steam rolled it immediately with, “How was it for you?” A more clinical tone had been taken, as was to be expected with Laurent. “Tell me how I was, what I can do to improve. Perhaps /warn/ me of activities you would like to try so I could prepare myself just /once/, Damianos.” 

* * *

Nothing warmed him the way compliments did from Laurent. He grinned into the kiss, utterly happy. He had ridden all day for this moment, to have Laurent happy beneath him, surrounded by warmth and furs. Damen wanted to kiss every inch of him, to know the curved and lines of his body that had changed while they were apart. He dared to dart his tongue against Laurent’s finger when it pressed to his lips, just a quick reminder of where his tongue had been. 

He could see in Laurent’s eyes that he was thinking of it too. 

“Oh, I think about it constantly,” Damen murmured in Akielon, happily meeting that next kiss. He wished he had the mouth to be lewd and express how he would love to put many, many more Kings of Akielos to waste inside of Vere, but instead he just kissed deeper, the soft sounds of their lips together the most pleasant he’d ever heard. 

What Laurent said next made his heart skip /several/ beats but before his mouth could be picked up off the floor Laurent was assaulting him with questions. 

“It was wonderful for me,” Damen said softly. “I missed you so much, Laurent. I’m not concerned with—you did everything I could have wanted. You kissed me—“

He shut his mouth abruptly, then regained himself again. He was not about to gush like a child. 

“Say it again,” Damianos said in a much stronger voice. “About being in love. Say it again."

* * *

For a brief moment, Laurent looked as if he had been effectively chastised. His eyes went big, and his mouth shut tight, looking up to Damen as, sure enough, he warred with something inside of his head. For a moment, it looked as if it was something in Damen’s tone that had affected Laurent, but what was on his face, in his mind was not something out of his past, out of any trauma.

Laurent /liked/ that tone in Damen, and it was suddenly clear that the only war in his head, at least for now, was how /he/ would respond to that boldness.

His fingers came up to rest on Damen’s cheek, his eyes on Damen’s, and after a long, silent moment, Laurent smiled, soft and fond.

“I have never been so in love,” Laurent repeated, more strength in his voice this time, a confidence in it now that he had had that moment to verify he’d been telling Damen the truth. It was something different, outside of a familial love he’d had and still had for those no longer with him. Damianos was in a category of his own, and Laurent wanted him to know it.

It didn’t feel wrong to love Damen anymore, and no one could tell him it was. As much as Damen’s last decision had hurt Laurent, Laurent was no longer a child. It hurt, but he understood it. Someone had to be the victim that day. If it had been Damianos—

/That/ was not a comfortable line of thinking for Laurent.

“You are my most trusted confidante, and my most beloved. I cannot picture myself without you.”

And though that admission made him uncomfortable, Laurent did not back track. 

* * *

Damen had to think over his words many times to make sure he hadn’t accidentally said something rude or condescending, with the way Laurent was staring at him. but he kept his resolve ,deciding not to retract his words. He wanted Laurent to say it again. He wanted to hear it. He wanted Laurent of Vere to speak to him openly, not hiding his words behind questions. 

That smile would undo him, the way Laurent caressed his cheek was beyond sweet. His chest /glowed/ as Laurent spoke those beautiful words, and he wished he had a way to capture them in a bottle to listen to whenever he wanted. That, and what he said after. 

Instead of responding right away, Damen kissed him, passionate and meaningful. He couldn’t wait to be married, to be formally and officially joined to him. His kisses melted into something even more loving and affectionate than he had kissed Laurent in awhile, and his hands wandered the length of that beautiful body, thumbing over Laurent’s hip where there were darkening marks from his fingers. 

“Have you had enough of me tonight?” Damen chuckled against Laurent’s cheek. “Or may I take you gently this time, enough to keep us both asleep past dawn?”

He pressed more kisses to Laurent’s damp skin, then pulled back just to gaze as his debauched king, limbless with pleasure, cheeks flushed, sapphire earring splayed on the pillow beside him. 

“I am lucky,” he murmured quietly, “to have you."

* * *

Damen could think he was lucky to have Laurent, and Laurent would not argue it. There would be no sense in doing so, for he had fallen for a complete and total stubborn, golden king. Damen could think what he liked, but Laurent was /far/ luckier to have Damen. 

Damen was teaching Laurent about trust again, truly allowing Laurent to find who he had been before his uncle had made him see the darker parts of the world - areas that Auguste and his father had kept him from for so, so long. Damen was giving Laurent himself back, and Laurent would never be able to show how grateful he was for that.

So Laurent agreed to that third round of gentle lovemaking that did exactly as Damen promised.

\---

They had slept there on the fur beside the fireplace, Laurent tucked into Damen, sapping out his warmth while also hiding from the direct light of the fire. 

It was not Jord who woke them.

The intruder /barely/ knocked before they pushed inside, and Laurent’s eyes blinked open, but he did not move further than that. Damen had eyes that way, and if anything was wrong, he fully trusted Damen to alert him.

A slave had come to the door, fully painted and bejewelled for the day’s festivities, carrying a pile of clothing. Jord watched the slave from the open door, watched him kneel, and place the folded clothing on the table that separated him and the two sleeping kings.

Laurent glanced over his shoulder to see the boy, his brow arching, as he was a boy Laurent had never seen.

“Where is Lucien?” He asked, groggily sitting upright - and though he instantly regretted that choice, he stood firmly by it.

The slave, taller than Laurent and finely muscled, his hair darker than even Damen’s, looked up at his king with an expression Laurent was /all/ too familiar with. He had seen it in Damen’s eyes many times before they had bonded well.

Laurent sat up a little straighter, and his hand surreptitiously moved under his pillow.

“Lucien is still in bed, your majesty,” the slave responded in a eastern Veretian accent, as he laid out the two exquisite outfits - one for Laurent and one for Damen, both in the Veretian style. “His master said he wanted him rested for the day’s entertainment.”

Only Damen would know Laurent didn’t like that answer.

“You’re dismissed,” Laurent told the boy with a wave of his hand, pushing up onto his feet. “We will tend to each other.” 

* * *

Damen slept like a rock. More like a boulder. He’d made sweet love to Laurent another time, marking their best session yet—and quite honestly the best Dman had ever experienced. He felt positively bathed in love, and sleeping with Laurent curled to him and his back warmed by the fire was probably the best way he could imagine his first night in Vere. 

He woke instantly when he heard a knock at the door, and momentarily tensed. The last time he’d been in this room had been to protect Laurent, who had been very drugged and in horrible shape. But at the sight of a boy painted in gold, he relaxed, his mouth turning to a look of intense dislike. Not toward the slave interrupting them, but toward that gold paint covering every inch of skin. It was clear to Damianos that this boy was supposed to look like him, a very obvious message. 

He could read that Laurent was upset by it, and his gaze flicked ot the way Laurent’s hand moved under his pillow. A weapon had to be there, and Damen was sitting up in a moment, right behind Laurent, and arm curling around him. He pressed a kiss to Laurent’s shoulder as a silent reminder that he was here. 

Laurent didn’t like that Lucien wasn’t there. Damen didn’t like that he was going to be put in Veretian clothes. 

When the boy was gone, Damen rose to his feet right behind Laurent, quickly moving to still him with hands on Laurent’s hips. He hated being woken so swiftly. 

“I have clothes,” Damen said first, looking at his outfit. “I am King of Akielos. I will be welcomed in my own clothing. And who sent that slave? They are trying to spit in my face.”

He grit his teeth, then tried to relax. So much for a perfect morning to bask in Laurent. “Are you in danger, Laurent?” he asked, bringing his hands up to frame that perfect face. “I will find my men, post guards at every point of entry to our chambers. And if you believe Lucien in danger…well, I will protect him too. We will."

* * *

“Wear what you like,” Laurent murmured, making eye contact with Jord before the door fully closed. Jord nodded, as if understanding a wordless command, and he posted himself upright, communicating something just as the door shut tight.

“We aren’t in danger,” Laurent reassured Damen, looking past him for only a moment before glancing back so their eyes met. “He bore Mathe’s paint. He is one of ours.”

The council was not out to kill either himself or Damen. They were stoking them, planning something. Laurent had expected it, but he had not expected /much/. 

“They only had a few hours,” Laurent reasoned, turning from Damen’s hold and picking up his outfit to inspect it. “They’re Veretian, but even that is not enough time for /them/ to plot something properly.” Laurent’s reaction with the knife had been out of habit. He should have thought before doing that in front of Damen. It showed too much of how he thought of his own people. More than he was willing to share.

“Keep your men free for the festivities,” Laurent dismissed. “My council is trying at something, but at most, it is to make an example.” 

And to ruin his morning.

* * *

Damen was glad he was here. He could never imagine feeling like his own people may turn on him in Akielos. Laurent should not be here alone, not while the current council remained. His smiling king was gone, all evidence of pleasure wiped from him except for the marks on his neck, his hips and thighs. Those happy, love-drenched moments of the night before were already fading. 

“Fine. But if anyone dares to threaten you in /any/ way—“ Damen let out a huff and strode to the door. He opened it a crack. “Find Pallas. Have him fetch clothes suitable for this ceremony. Quickly.” 

The door was shut again and Damen turned, agitated. He strode to the clothes, inspecting the outfit he’d been made to wear. He had to admit it was a very, very nice outfit, but he would not wear Veretian clothing when representing Akielos. 

“I will not tolerate my men being made to look like fools,” Damen warned, fingers running over the cloth. “I love you, but I am King of Akielos, and I will not hesitate to protect my own.” He reached up, gently feeling around until he tugged the clip from his hair, folding it into his palm. He felt for the earring, but it was gone. He eyed it resting beside the furs, Laurent’s right beside it from where Damen had removed it while he had been sleeping. 

His clothes did not take long to arrive, and Damen’s cloak had been cleaned and his pin polished. His chiton was bright white silk, embroidered with gleaming gold and red. When he was all done up in his cloak, chiton, crown, and gold sandals, he thought he looked quite powerful. 

“Do you have any gold for my ears?” Damen asked as he adjusted his cuff. He was not joking. “Something simple. Cuffs, perhaps. I would wear your starburst, but it is against Akielon tradition to wear hair jewelry when wearing my crown.” He examined himself in the mirror again. He needed more sun. Why was he so nervous? “Do you have anything in that box of yours?"

* * *

Laurent dressed as Damen flit around the room, clearly agitated in a way Laurent could not allow himself to be. He had to refocus, had to remember that /this/ was his reality here in Vere until he made some changes. What they’d had last night had been beautiful, but with very lace, Laurent had another wall built back up, another fortification he’d let Damen through last night.

Damen was dressed well before Laurent had even finished lacing his undershirt.

“They won’t be after your men either,” Laurent continued, pulling on his jacket and starting with what laces he could. He would need Damen to lace up the back. “They will be attacking /you/. Not directly, as it is not in their nature, but in every way you know to expect.”

The last time they had spoken like this, it was in territory where Damen had all the knowledge. They had plotted battles and wars on Akielon territory, but now, they were in Vere, and their attackers were cowards. They would be hard to predict, the spineless lot of them.

Laurent looked up when Damen asked for gold, and were he not in such a sour mood, he would have smiled at Damen’s attention to detail. Laurent usually skipped the decorations, but as king, he was expected to have some fineries on his person.

“Gold is....” Laurent started, crossing the room, his boots tapping against the fine wood. He pulled a box from near the fireplace and began to pick through it, laying out a couple items from Damen’s last decorating here in Vere. “...in here.”

The first item was the golden rod with the chain attached, which Laurent quickly covered with the clamps that had once adorned Damen’s nipples. Laurent had actually liked those, but mainly for leading Damen around. Had he been in a better mood...

Beneath those was a smaller box, and from it, Laurent pulled two items—

And abruptly stopped.

Laurent had taken on the silver starburst as his own, but in his hand was the golden starburst of his brother, a symbol Laurent had adopted only after his ascension. These two pieces were too old to be from that day.

He set them aside, pulled out a small cartilage cuff for Damen, one that chained to a secondary cuff at the lobe. Laurent handed that over, along with a ring. 

He pushed the two starbursts back into the box, moved across the room where his own lay, golden and shining. New.

“You can pin it to your chiton,” Laurent offered.

He pulled that sapphire earring from his own ear and replaced it with a dangling earring of his own insignia. Laurent never wore much jewellery, but he did lace his sleeve in such a way that his own bangle was visible. That, the earring, and his crown would be quite enough for him.

* * *

Damen knew they would be after him, but it felt more real when Laurent spoke it aloud. Worse, he knew he was ill-equipped for this fight. He would be an easy target for them, because he could be angered so easily. They would goad him into anger, and he would explode as they wanted him to. He wouldn’t be able to help himself, especially now that he wasn’t chained. 

He followed Laurent with his eyes as he moved over to the fireplace to a box Damen also knew the contents of before it was opened. Of course gold was too valuable to be discarded, and he knew Laurent had not been in Arles since they had left here together. But it made him feel ill to know Laurent still had those items of slavery, that they hadn’t been immediately melted down and turned into something better. 

It took some work to put the cuffs on his ear, but gold was malleable, so Damen had it clamped to his ears slightly different than intended, but secure nonetheless. He had seen Laurent find the starbursts, and it dawned on him that perhaps that box was the box of things Laurent wished to forget. 

The ring only fit over an index finger, but it looked fine there. Damen was just having trouble speaking. He never felt much of anything before going to war—and more often excitement than dread, but today was different. 

He moved behind Laurent as he put in his new earring, and began lacing up the back of his jacket, heart in his stomach. 

“They will flay me alive,” he said quietly, reserved. He tugged the final lace through and tied it swiftly, crossing his arms. “If they goad me, I’ll fight. I’ll do exactly as they wish for me to do, and I know that head of time and I cannot fight it. I am too protective of you and my country."

* * *

Damen was right - about the council, about his own reactions. Laurent could have anticipated them, but that was a good thing. He would protect Damen over all things. Knowing what was coming could only help him in that.

It wasn’t as if they could avoid this outing. It was more realistic to navigate around it. As Laurent had been forced to all of his life.

Damen had wanted a proper course on Veretian culture, and here it was.

“You have survived worse,” said Laurent as he turned, pacing his hands on Damen’s chest and placing the briefest kiss on his lips. “Trust me, Damianos. I will see that we make it through this.” He would see that Damen was not tarnished any further in the eyes of Vere.

With that, Laurent picked up his circlet, fitted so the starburst sat in the centre of his forehead, and positioned his long hair around it. Side by side, he and Damen looked of their people, and today, that was the perfect representation they needed.

“I will need something with your crest on it one of these days,” Laurent said, even though they were surrounded by a hundred more pressing issues. “You represent me, and I should you.” 

He wanted them to be as even as possible, always perfectly balanced in power.

“I will protect you,” Laurent told Damen then, in case he had not made it clear enough. “No one will harm you. You are a free man and a king. I ask you to do what you think is just, and I will handle the rest.” 

* * *

Damianos had grown up very differently than Laurent. His father had been there until Kastor’s betrayal, guiding him while he was healthy enough to do so. Kastor too had been a gude and mentor to him, and Nikandros had shown him things that he would not have learned—things that took place outside of nobility and royalty. Nikandros and his family had won their way to their rank through intelligence and expertise on the battlefield. 

Damen met the kiss, but his thoughts were distracted, cooking up a thousand scenarios in his head. It was true, Laurent did not have anything with his crest on it, yet Damen had several representations of Laurent. He dimly realized that was because it was more comfortable for him to be owned in that way and harder to imagine Laurent showing that he was claimed by anyone. Slavery had affected Damianos in ways he still had not fully realized. 

He blinked as they prepared to leave, and found he was trembling slightly. He did not fear the council. He did not fear the whip or the sword either. Yet there he was, trembling, because the reputation of Akielos was at stake. 

He took Laurent’s hand and they headed for the door. “I think,” Damen said quietly, looking ahead. “It would be just if you melted down that rod and chain so I never have to see it again.”

He wasn't angry, but he wanted Laurent to know that it hurt him, even though he knew it wasn’t Laurent’s choice to have kept it. 

Damen lifted his head, holding himself proudly, even if he did not feel it. He may not be good at lying, but he could carry himself as a warrior even if he felt nothing like one. He knew how to lead men even when inside he felt hopeless. He could do this. 

* * *

Laurent had not known the rod was in there. He did not know the thing collar or the chain had been either. Laurent never went into that box, never had a reason to before today, but he wasn’t about to argue it. Damen was right to say what he had, right to ask it.

“You’ll never see it again,” Laurent promised him, eyes ahead as well as he adjusted his collar, knowing there was no hiding at least two of the marks that pocked his fine skin there. He had seen them in the mirror, purple and yellow against the blue of his jacket. He had been so proud of them last night, and though he remained prideful, he was very /aware/ of them now.

He set his back straight, tilted up his chin, and in the final moment, he laced his fingers with Damen in a more Akielon way of showing fondness. He kissed Damen’s knuckles as Damen usually kissed his before stepping out into the hallway.

Jord and Lazar followed just a few steps behind.

“Jord,” Laurent said, and walking through that door had been like walking through another dimension, Damen’s soft and almost vulnerable Laurent left behind while this cold leader passed through. “You are dismissed for rest. Replace yourself with Renault or Henrik.”

“Your majesties,” Jord bowed in obedience as he branched off at the end of the hallway.

“Lazar,” Laurent continued, keeping up a swift pace with Damen at his side. “You are also dismissed for rest. Replace yourself with Tyr or Aster.”

“Exalted,” Lazar responded in traditional Akielon, and then he branched off, leaving Damen and Laurent alone in the hallways.

“Keep your head high,” Laurent said to Damen only after he knew they were free from ear shot. He owed him these words, this attention. Guilt had a hold on Laurent, and he needed to shake it for his own hopes at focus. “This is a joyous day for our kingdoms - a day where we have the opportunity to bring them together and give them a glimpse of the future. Focus on that, Damianos. You are a /king/.” 

* * *

Damen inwardly chastised himself for not kissing Laurent’s hand the way he always did, but was grateful Laurent had remembered. He kept silent, jaw set, as Laurent dismissed their guard. He had already become the icy prince again, all of Damen’s efforts from the night before had vanished, replaced with the cold and cruel King of Vere that so many feared. He thought that many simply saw him as someone who could withstand a thousand bites from Laurent the Viper. Damianos hoped one day they would see the man he knew. 

He wasn’t used to Laurent offering encouragement, and it set him more on edge even as he was comforted by it. Perhaps Laurent thought he would fail.

“Thank you,” he said with a nod. He looked at Laurent, taking him in for a moment in al of his royal beauty. Everyone thought Laurent was the prize of Vere by looks alone, and Damen had to agree. He needed no jewelry to outshine any pretty pet. He squeezed Laurent’s hand. “You need not worry. I will not shrivel, but I may well strangle someone.”

He was only half joking as they headed down the halls toward the great hall where everyone would be assembled. Pallas met them as they moved out of Laurent’s apartments, greeting them both with a deep bow. “Exalteds.”

“Where is Lydos?” Damianos asked. 

“Guarding the stables as requested, Exalted.”

Damen nodded, forgetting he made made that order. “Good.” Then he remembered about Lazar, and regarded Pallas for a moment, his face stone. 

“Laurent has arranged our guard for the welcoming. You look as though you have been awake all night. Please, rest.”

Pallas did not need to see his king humiliated, as Damen felt with growing certainty would be the case. Pallas frowned, bit dipped his head. 

“Don’t worry,” Damianos added with a smile. “Lazar has also been told to rest.”

Pallas flushed red, eyes on the floor. “Exalted, I—“

Damen raised his free hand. “Go. You will be needed later. I expect you to be ready when I need you.”

Pallas bowed to each of them and headed off without a word, but Damen could see his red ears even as he reached the end of the hall. 

Damen turned his head to Laurent, in a slightly better mood now that at least two mens’ day had been improved. “I am ready,” he lied. “Lead the way."


	8. Part II: The Council (26.1.20)

The palace had become a constant movement, and the opening of the doors, the revel of the two kings, only caused hiccups in swift bows here and there. Veretian servants were moving in and out of doorways, trays of meat and fruits and sweets being hauled in every direction, but the main source of inward and outward movement was the main hall.

“The festivities have been set inside?” Laurent asked to a passing servant who, with their tray balanced, nodded and cast their eyes down to the floor.

“It is snowing, Your Majesty,” the young man said. “Lord Cylan thought the Akielon visitors would be uncomfortable in the cold in the early morning hours.” 

“And where is Lord Cylan?” Laurent asked, but before a response could be given, Laurent heard the familiar voice calling to his attention.

Lady Vannes.

“Your majesties,” she greeted with a small curtsy, her pet, trailing close behind her, gave a similar greeting. Her eyes swept boldly over Laurent, catching on his neck with a smirk before her eyes toured Damen.

Laurent cleared his throat.

So /this/ was not someone he minded.

Vannes corrected her gaze and offered that same placid smile, a secondary bow of her head given in apology.

“It has been a while since I have seen his majesty of Akielos,” she explained needlessly before dismissing the comment with a wave of her hand. “I’ve been asked to invite you to a debriefing of the day’s activities in your court. Cylan says it will only take a few moments, but I will shave that down as necessary for you.”

“Tell me, what of the Akielons?” Laurent asked, nodding for her to lead the way. He did not let go of Damen’s hand. 

“Those who wish to fight by sword are in the training ring,” Vannes explained as she clicked through the halls. Laurent kept his eyes forward, did not let them get caught on any stares or /expressions/. “Those participating in Akielon wrestling are being led in stretches by one of the Exalted’s self-proclaimed best. The Veretian slaves are prepping the events. We did not think it best to mix the sport for fear of /surprises/.”

It had been a surprisingly wise decision.

“The stands in the arena outside are being outfitted with furs for the Akielons when we do move with the height of the sun, and we are currently in preparation for two large meals today.”

Laurent nodded, having very much expected this level of care to be given. Anything less would have cause for punishment.

It was a lot, but this had been Laurent’s pace for months. He could handle this, and he had no doubts Damen could as well. 

* * *

Damianos dimly recognized the woman as Lady Vannes, and it was clear she had guessed exactly what they had been up to the night before. He wasn’t ashamed, though his eyes did narrow at her slightly. She was testing her limits in the way she was regarding them. They were /kings/, not pieces of royal tapestry. He tensed at her comment, lip threatening to curl to a snarl. Yes, it had been some damn time. 

“Lady Vannes,” he greeting stiffly. 

He followed Laurent as they moved down the hall, though he did not feel as if Lady Vannes had actually invited him at all. She had clearly just been speaking to Laurent, yet here they both were. Damen /hated/ that he had to be silent, but he saw no place for him to speak just yet. 

He hoped they had more than furs in the stands for his party, because they would certainly be cold even when the sun was brightest. Vere was a frigid place, and winter was not yet in full swing. 

Again, he was quiet. He felt as if his teeth had melded together, his throat constricted. He had no idea what to say, and felt hopelessly out of place and confused, of all things. Lady Vannes had just explained what was happening and Damen felt as though perhaps he didn’t understand Veretian at all. 

So he waited. Laurent seemed satisfied, so Damen simply followed until they reached a familiar doorway, where he presumed the court was waiting. The same court—with only a few changes—that had last seen him here attached to that rod and chain, eating sweetmeats from Laurent’s fingers and sitting on the floor, glaring at other pets. 

Now he was King, but did not feel it. 

* * *

The court doors were opened for them, and Laurent stepped through with Damen, Lady Vannes and her pet in tow, before the doors closed behind them.

There had been a discussion ongoing upon their interest, but it halted for the entrance of the two kings. Laurent’s eyes scanned the seats for a moment, and his grip on Damen visibly slackened when he laid eyes on Lucien, sat beside Cylan, not looking /well/, but not looking mistreated either. 

The seat for Mathe’s pet remained empty. He had not yet replaced Korus, then.

Every member of the court stood, their heads bowed, as the kings found their seats. They were not difficult to find, of course. Two finely carved, equal in every way seats had been set in the centre of the court, per Laurent’s orders. It had been an argument, of course, to tear up the seat that had been there before, but Laurent made the visceral point that the seat had been tainted by a false king, and no one had the words to conquer him on that.

He waited for Damen to sit before taking his own seat, and the court followed.

For a long moment, no one said anything. After their meeting last night, not one man wanted to be the one who broke the silence, who put their necks out into the noose. 

And Laurent did not like his time wasted.

“Your briefing,” Laurent reminded them sharply, straight backed and calloused, looking down his nose at every last one of them. 

“Your majesty,” Cylan spoke up in turn, and then, to Damen, “Exalted.” He said it in the Veretian language. “We have prepared a day of celebration for you both. For the Akielon King’s return to Arles. We, with the little preparation given, hope to have merged our cultures to your liking.” It was said to Damen and not Laurent.

They were /smart/.

* * *

Damen had honestly expected his throne to be forgotten, marked as a mistake. He expected that perhaps Laurent’s throne would have a place for a pet, a not-so-subtle reminder of what Damen had been. Instead, there were two identical chairs, right beside one another. They were expertly carved in Veretian style, but Damen found himself wary to sit, as though his might not be real. But he did sit, stiff and visibly uncomfortable. But he kept his head high, regarding the court with indifference. 

Then he became angry. These people had seen him as a slave, and he was still one in their eyes. Or worse, he was a piece of livestock in a crown, Laurent’s beast. He didn’t say a word, because if he did, he would shout at them. He kept his free hand in his lap, hidden in his cloak, curled to a fist. 

When they explained the ceremony planned, he nearly flinched at the mention of his “return.” 

It took several moments for him to reply, and he hoped he didn’t look as ill as he felt. He felt beyond powerless. Voiceless. He felt like Laurent’s slave, only to speak when ordered. 

“Lady Vannes has informed me of the swordsmanship and wrestling competitions. What of the Veretian traditions do you have planned? Take us through the day. Our horses are not used to this climate, so I would like ample time for them to be properly prepared should they be needed.”

It wasn’t an excuse, but it wasn’t not an excuse. He didn’t feel as though he could simply demand to be told, though he would do so in Akielos. 

* * *

Laurent found himself at a sort of ease when Damen found his voice, and when he spoke, Laurent regraded him, gave Damen his attention in a way he hardly ever gave his own council. He could /feel/ it irking them.

“We have planned a Veretian meal, your majesty,” Cylan assured Damen, “and we will have wrestling in the Veretian style.”

Laurent picked up on the fact that his entire court had slowed their speaking when addressing Damen directly.

“We hoped to—“

“He speaks Veretian, councillor,” Laurent cut in sharply, silencing Cylan for a moment. Laurent noticed the smallest twitch of his brow. “Pity you would forget it. But with age...” Laurent had not used this time in quite a while, not since the death of his uncle. 

He’d not even bothered a glance at Cylan.

“Of course,” the councillor said as he cleared his throat and started again at a more usual pace. “Wrestling and the...the meal.” Laurent thumbed at the back of Damen’s hand, waiting. “We have opened the gardens for visitors that are perhaps more interested in.../immersing/ themselves in the Veretian culture, and we have set a number of pets along the castle for various entertainments. 

Laurent set his jaw, but Cylan was quick to continue.

“Only the males,” he said as if /that/ were the issue. “The female pets have been told to stay indoors, for the upkeep of our society. Lady Vannes’ pet is the exception, and she will he kept on a short leash so that—“

“Does Akielos desire female pleasure?” Mathe spoke up before Cylan could continue. “Your Majesty? As you are aware, it is not our custom, but should it be asked of us, we have the stock to happily oblige.” 

Oh, that was a trap. That felt like a trap, but Laurent could not tell what exactly they were baiting. Not yet. 

* * *

Damen worked his jaw, his rage increasing with each slowed word. He tried to tell himself they were just being polite, but he knew that was not the case. Even so, he didn’t feel he could say anything, because he could easily see that same logic turned on him to seem rude. 

Laurent saw to it, though. Damen glared at Cylan but said nothing as Laurent effectively tore them to pieces with his words. 

Cylan continued, and Damen one again fought not to curl his lip. Akielons would not be participating in the debauchery of the gardens. Maybe a few would try it out if they were adventurous (perhaps Lazar could convince Pallas), but not many. Some would be horrified. 

Damen’s hand emerged from beneath his cloak to rest against his lips, a lackadaisical expression on his features as he mulled over Mathe’s question. He also knew it was a trap, but he liked ot think this one might be one he avoided setting off. 

“My men are guests of Arles,” Damianos finally said, lowing his hand to grip the arm of his throne. “Male pets will be plenty for them. We will respect your customs, and my party is aware of them—if any Akielon requests a female pet, they are to make that request to me directly."

* * *

Laurent did give his council his attention in that moment, watching all but Lady Vannes’s face remain expressionless, not even a light in any of their eyes. Damen had made the wrong decision for what they wanted, then. Laurent gave his hand a little squeeze, but it was so faint and distracted, it could barely be felt at all.

They’d wanted Damen to request them to follow Akielon tradition. Perhaps only to make the Akielons look barbaric to the Veretians, perhaps - more likely - in hopes of finding an heir that looked /vaguely/ similar to the Akielon king a great years down the road.

Laurent knew how they thought.

“Lady Vannes,” Laurent spoke up then, “Your pet should be dismissed for the evening. Out of respect to our guests. Your ladies’ as well.”

“Would you ban every woman from the celebrations?” Mathe asked, bold and offended, and Laurent felt himself restrain a tick. He should never have expected them to even take a /day/ off of their plotting.

Laurent levelled a hardened gaze at him, and Mathe’s response - though small - was a visible desire to disengage it immediately.

“If it meant we made a positive impression with our guests in the early stages of our union, then yes,” Laurent reasoned easily. “But I see no need to be so dramatic, councillor. Unless you stand here, now, with a renewed stance on the permissions of the women of Vere?”

Mathe said nothing.

Laurent looked to Cylan to continue.

“That is the day, your majesties,” Cylan said with a clearing of his throat, his hands held dutifully behind his back. “The festivities should carry us into the evening, and then we will rest for tomorrow’s council meeting. Should the Exalted like his council in attendance as well, we could have seats prepared.”

“How thoughtful of you,” Laurent murmured, dripping sarcasm. He wouldn’t play around every single one of these baitings as if they weren’t being thrown out. They could at least be smarter about their pacing of them.

* * *

Damen didn’t say anything, but he wasn’t so sure Lady Vannes should be deprived of her pet for the evening, nor that the ladies should be deprived of theirs. Yes, most of his men would probably prefer to bed Veretian women because their features were prized in Akielos, but he had hand selected this group with Nikandros. They were loyal, respectful, and had been well trained on Veretian culture. 

Laurent had certainly not meant it that way, but to Damen it came across that Laurent thought his men would be so intoxicated by the sight of a female pet that they would dishonor their entire country to stick their cock in her. 

“My council is not here,” Damianos replied, leaning back in his throne. “In Akielos, I speak for my country as a whole unless a specific province is concerned. Currently the kyroi are busy preparing for winter, as it is still some ways off in Akielos. The most influential part of Akielon government sits before you now.” He tried to sound unconcerned, but he was annoyed that they would think he would uproot every kyros to come visit Arles when they needed to be preparing stores. Had they bothered to learn anything about Akielos at all?

“The kyroi have sent the finest men of their provinces as representatives,” Damen said. “All of the men here are great warriors, leaders, or some form of nobility, in line to become the next Kyros of their province,” Damen explained, only slightly slowing his Veretian as though /they/ may not understand. 

He stood rather abruptly, and the room scrambled to stand with him. 

“Perhaps some will join me tomorrow, I will give numbers once I have decided. In the meantime, thank you for hosting us, and on behalf of Akielos, we are thankful for your hospitality and welcome, albeit tardy. I look forward to the festivities.”

No, he had not forgotten last night.

* * *

Laurent remained seated when the room erupted into scraping chairs and shuffling clothing, everyone rising up around him to match Damen, but the very idea of standing overwhelmed Laurent for a moment. He’d found a comfortable position - which had not been easy after last night - and he would very well stand when he needed to, but this was not it.

He looked about the council, silently noting that Damen was taller than all of them.

When Damen finished, Laurent offered up his hand and used Damen as something of a crutch to stand, though outwardly, he flowed as gracefully as ever. He was sore, but not in pain, and he found himself momentarily grateful for his youth, as he was not sure /how/ his back would feel today were he of Cylan or Mathe’s age.

These thoughts were easy to have now, for Damen had /handled/ himself. Laurent had been able to take the time to asses his council, what they might be planning, and he was pleased to determine that they had no /big/ plans, but a mere gaggle of small ones, meant to disrupt, but not to /ruin/.

Not yet, anyway.

“There should be no other Akielon in our court tomorrow,” Laurent told Damen once they were free of the doors, back into the chaos of the hall. 

Laurent failed to explain why.

“Your majesties!” 

Laurent did not stop, but let the herald catch up to them, fully anticipating he was going the right direction anyway.

“Your majesties—“ the herald bowed as he walked. “We have a meal prepared for you both, in the private study while we—“ The poor man was lost for a moment to a line of trays and clanking silver. Laurent turned to look up to Damen, just checking in, before the herald was back at their sides. “—await the tournaments to begin.”

“It will be the last moment we have alone for some time,” Laurent told Damen as he changed their course for the private study, which resided in the King’s private hall, where Laurent inexplicably did not stay. This was a trap for him then, but he hardly would give them the satisfaction. Not over something so small. They were getting sloppy. 

* * *

Damen noted the amount of weight Laurent gave him when he pulled him up, and immediately remembered how sore he must be. They hadn’t even gotten the chance to bath this morning and while they both smelled fine thanks to the rosewater of the night before, a hot soak after lovemaking would have been good for Laurent. 

Being Laurent’s slave had meant he didn’t attend every function with him, so Damen had forgotten the incessant nature of the way schedules worked in Vere. He didn’t need an explanation of why Akielons shouldn’t be present. They had no idea how to fight Veretians on their home turf and Damen didn’t feel he’d done even a halfway decent job at asserting himself in court. 

When the herald approached, Damen was silent, working his jaw as he stared ahead. It was obvious to him that they wanted to keep him away from their scheming for as long as possible, and they probably wanted to prevent public appearances of Damianos within their walls. He was still Princekiller here—a title that would never leave him. 

“Two kings made to eat in a private study,” Damen muttered. Once again he felt helpless. What could he say? This was Laurent’s kingdom. He could not throw a fit because this represented Laurent too. He shook his head. “Even Nikandros would not have a king dine in a private study on the day of his welcoming.”

It was a welcome for a slave-king, a disgrace to the crown. But he would take it, because it was the last time he would have with Laurent until the night, and they would be too exhausted to do much talking then. 

He squeezed Laurent’s hand as they approached what appeared to be the study. 

* * *

“It is where I took most of my meals in my childhood,” Laurent responded dryly, stepping up to the study and waiting until the doors had been fully opened before he stepped inside. “It is also precisely where they used to put me when they did not know what else to do with me.”

The doors shut, and two attendants were moving in moments, pulling out chairs to the table where their spread had been set. 

The room’s walls were decorated in books, which stood as the only testament as to why Laurent had spent so much time here as a child, but where the table was shining and polished, every book around them had a layer of dust over them.

Laurent did not come here anymore, it seemed.

In fact, it looked as if the last time he had been in here, he may have been no older than the young, golden haired boy in the portrait on the desk just a few feet away. A family portrait of himself, his mother, his father, and his brother, travel-sized and seemingly set there ages ago. Laurent had probably been...ten or so in the panting. 

There was another portrait, hung on the wall, /much/ larger, perhaps one of Laurent’s first family portraits if the infant in Queen Hennike’s arms said anything about it. 

Laurent realised that, aside from the obvious, Damen did not know much about his childhood, or really, his life in Vere at all. Even his decisions now had not been explained. Damen had only seen a few rooms, and even in the halls, he’d been blindfolded.

Laurent looked down at the table and took a sip from his cup.

They were served a tart juice from a fresh winter berry, paired with a water and a wine. Their plates were stacked with fruits and sweet breads, and it seemed a bit of cooked bird. The boar would be for the large feast after the tournaments, then.

Good.

“I will, when this is all over, give you a proper tour of the palace,” said Laurent, looking to Damen across the expanse of the table. The servant stood next to him, pouring his wine. “You’ll benefit from knowing it properly.” 

* * *

As much as Damen was annoyed about not being invited to the great hall to dine, he found that perhaps Laurent himself had arranged this, though it didn’t appear so. The room was quiet, a sanctuary amidst all the bustle. He could see Laurent bumbling down the halls with arms full of books, excited and laughing the way Cosmas did in Ios. 

The books were covered in dust, and Damen suddenly felt bad that he had distracted Laurent from reading. He wondered if that alone time Nikandros had told him about had been spent with books in his hand. 

The portrait of Laurent as a child made him grin wide. Laurent looked so different—round cheeks and a goofy smile, his curls combed in a way only a mother would demand. August looked charming as ever, his smile tighter—Damen recognized the look of a crown prince. Aleron the King sat with a proud look in his eyes, and Hennike was a glowing goddess of Kempt. A perfect family. 

He gently touched Laurent’s small face, smiling softly to himself before he turned and took the seat across from Laurent. He felt much too far away for something that should be intimate. 

He was thankful for the wine and took a long sip. 

“You were a happy child?” Damen asked softly as he set down his glass. He tore some bread, only just realizing how hungry he was. He looked around at the books, relaxing ever so slightly. “Are your favorite books in here?” he asked. “Would you show me one when we’re finished eating?"

* * *

Laurent watched as Damen took up the wine, not at all surprised he would take to it so early. Today would only get worse, and he might as well go in with a bit of liquid encouragement. Laurent pushed his own over, having no interest in it despite his order for two pitchers last night. 

“I had nothing to be upset about as a child,” Laurent confirmed, sipping his water after biting into a bright berry. “I was the spare of an heir. I read, I trained, I was close with my mother, my brother.” Laurent had never been close to his father, but he had no reason to be. Auguste was the one expected to take up the mantle, and Laurent even at a young age understood how demanding the role of king was in Vere. 

“I was bookish, and quite...open with my desires and feelings,” he confessed quietly, staring up behind him at the portrait. “I had everything I desired. I was a happy child.”

They didn’t need to speak of his adolescence. It was unfortunate that Damen already knew more about it than his life before.

“My favourites...” Laurent started his train of thought as he looked about the shelves, “are no longer in here. I had them pulled /ages/ ago.”

In his youth, Laurent had been more wise than anyone would he given him credit for. Without his mother, and after losing his father and brother on the same day, Laurent began to understand the fleeting nature of things he loved. And, when this room became his uncle’s study, he surreptitiously stole books out of the room over the course of a few months. One at a time with extreme patience, in sneaky little ways, replacing them with older books, moving books around, all right under /someone’s/ nose. If anyone ever caught him, they never exposed his secret.

He’d learned then to prioritise. Of all the books he loved, he narrowed it down to around twenty, and he hid them in his rooms. They were still there today, now on a shelf above his work desk, on proud display. He even had a secondary chest of books he’d taken from his uncle’s rooms after his fortunate ‘passing,’ and relocated them back into his own possession. Those had taken a good deal more of self reflection before Laurent felt comfortable enough to retrieve them.

He had not passed into the king’s chambers since.

“I will show you those tonight should we make it through the day.” 

* * *

Damen sipped on his wine, smiling around the glass as he watched Laurent talk. He loved Laurent, and seeing him in this environment where he could talk about his past—the happy parts—made him wish things had been different. Auguste probably came in here to pick up his little brother to drag him out to train or play or any number of things. 

And Damen would have rolled his eyes at a boy burying his face in books, until that face popped out and stared him in the face with those big blue eyes. 

Laurent had such a perfect face. Framed in gold as it was now, Damen could only think of how he would look beneath him, cheeks flushed and lips parted, begging for him. Even as he looked at Laurent now, his vision hazed slightly, and he could see Laurent standing, pushing the trays aside, dismissing the servants as he moved across the table, pushing berries to his lips, his laces falling undone without a hand needed, that bare skin—

“Laurent,” Damen said, blinking. He knew this feeling, a desire that felt thick in his veins, a heavy heat between between his legs that came out of nowhere. 

He looked down at the wine and his stomach dropped at the purplish ring left behind from his lips. Not from wine, because wine didn’t stick like that. Damen had used pleasure drugs of Akielos once in his life, and he hadn’t enjoyed it. But he distinctly remembered what it felt like, and how it made him worse than a stag in the rut. 

He looked at a servant, a young man with delicate features arranged in a face of stone. Not meant for pleasure…unless asked. Everyone in Vere loved pleasure, and Damen knew he could simply say a word and the man would be before him—

“Out,” Damen growled. “Both of you, get out.”

The servants nodded and rushed out without a second glance. 

Damen would not let this control him, even though he could feel that they must have given him a dose large enough to down a stable full of stallions. Because they thought him a beast, of course. He could only think about Laurent, and the part of his brain that needed to warn him was quickly being drowned by a roar of desire. 

“Laurent,” he said again, but this time his voice came out low and sultry. “You need to go. They’ve—“ He swallowed hard, fighting every part of him that said to call Laurent closer. “Please.” 

* * *

Laurent followed Damen’s eyes to his wine, pulling his gaze from the walls and walls of books that he’d been mentally picking apart, trying to remember if he and anything he could impress Damen with. Surely, his knowledge of the history of Vere, or the book that outlined the history of wars on Acquitart. There was even a book on the old Kemptian language that Laurent could have read off to—

“Damen?”

It took Laurent all of a second to piece it together. He did have a second thought of worry, shock when Damen snapped at the servants, but one look at him, and Laurent easily knew what had happened. He grabbed up his own wine and swirled his finger inside of it, once, then twice—

And when he pulled it out, the bit of purple colouring slid from his bone white fingertips in little particles.

“Shit,” Laurent hissed quietly, not thinking any of them so bold as to—

He picked up his water and swirled his finger in the dark chalice. 

It pulled clear.

This was not meant for him.

Laurent rose to his feet and crossed to Damen, not at all shying away, but stepping right into his space, taking a hold of his face and looking him over - his blown pupils, the red in his cheeks, the way he was breathing.

Okay. Okay, this was /petty/.

“You cannot do this here.” Laurent told him, tugging his beloved to his feet and taking in the fact that /leaving/ here wasn’t really an option either. They couldn’t move through the main halls like this. Damn Akielons and their inability to just wear fucking clothes.

“Drink this,” Laurent ordered, handing Damen a water, surprisingly calm and in control for what was happening here. “All of that. And then, we can—“

Oh, this /had/ been a trap for him. This has been a /well-placed/ trap for him. Those fucking bastards, the lot of them.

Laurent schooled himself, took a step away from Damen to keep a safe distance for now, and he nodded towards the door.

“We have to get one room over. Can you do that?” 

* * *

Laurent came right over to him, and Damen wanted nothing more than to pull him down and kiss him desperately. Lose these foolish clothes and find themselves back where they were in Laurent’s chambers. He would take Laurent again, against the wall maybe. Or here on this table—yes, that would be good. And Laurent seemed to want it. He pulled Damen to his feet, staring at him, wanting him. 

“Oh? Improper?” Damen purred, moving over to Laurent. Only to have a glass of water shoved into his hands instead. Damen drank it, trying not to laugh as some dripped down his chin, slipped from the corners of his mouth. It took only about three swallows to down the entire glass, and Damen hoped Laurent was impressed. 

And now they had to get one room over, for more privacy, Damen assumed. Laurent looked radiant. The circlet made him look gleaming, the earring—Damen felt the urge to pull the earring out with his teeth, run his tongue along Laurent’s throat, rediscover all of those marks he’d made last night. 

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Damen chuckled, he pulled his cloak around his front, hiding his erection. He presumed that was the issue. He grinned, watching Laurent, lips parting on instinct. His tongue ran over his bottom lip, trying to show Laurent how much he needed him. 

“One room over,” Damen murmured, stumbling only a little as he made his way to the door. Right, he was king now. He had to act like it in public before he tore Laurent’s clothes off in the next room. 

They moved into the hallway and Damen was grinning ear to ear, barely remembered to hold his cloak over himself as he walked, nudging Laurent every other step. He leaned over, his lips at Laurent’s ear. “This door?” he whispered, falling into his betrothed a little bit. “This one?"

* * *

Laurent was not having nearly as good a time as Damen.

“Damen, honestly,” Laurent grumbled, taking his weight despite the soreness Laurent had in his entire body now. He couldn’t expect everyone to be able to handle themselves as he did, especially in holding themselves together on a very potent dosage of drugs, but he could hope for a /little/ help here.

“This one,” he finally confirmed, pushing Damen hard through the door and following him in. He shut the door behind them and locked it. 

At least they’d only been seen by one or two servants.

Laurent shook himself from Damen’s hold and took a few steps forward, leading Damen like one would a disobedient horse with a carrot. With his body. Any other moment, he would have been flattered. 

These weren’t rooms Laurent frequented any more in his life, and being in here now only added to the mood /this/ was putting him in. First, someone had drugged his fucking betrothed, disrespecting this entire fucking union, /then/ he’d had to carry Damen who really /could/ be doing better right now into his uncle’s fucking apartments where someone had clearly intended him to go and—

Vere had not always been this place. It had not always been this /twisted/.

“Sit on the bed,” Laurent ordered, crossing into the adjoining baths and grabbing up all sorts of vials and phials and towels and whatever else he knew to find. 

They would tell him they could never pin down who had done this. There were over a hundred servants working, and Damianos was still a /princekiller/ in the eyes of many. They would say Laurent could not punish the whole palace for one harmless misdeed. They would say it could only benefit them in the first place.

Laurent laid out all he had grabbed on the bit of bed Damen did not occupy. 

“Look for a green liquid,” Laurent told him as if Damen would ever be able to help.

* * *

Damen stumbled through the door with a little noise that signified he was very much looking forward to more of Laurent pushing him around. The door was locked, and Damen was surprised to see that he was in a massive, ornate bedchamber. Bigger than Laurent’s, covered in gold, dripping with blue stones wherever they could be placed. He couldn’t wait to fuck Laurent over that gold trunk, or perhaps in the silk sheets, or the massive baths. 

He turned to hold Laurent, but his golden king was gone, enticing him to follow. Damen dutifully did. He all but jumped into bed when Laurent demanded it of him, eager to please. What a treat it would be to take him when they were supposed to be having a meal, when they were supposed to be doing kingly duties. 

“Is it a special kind of oil you’re looking for?” Damen asked. He decided that he could be helpful. Laurent always had /tasks/ he wanted to accomplish before Damen was allowed to bed him. Walls he had to move past. 

Maybe he didn’t have to bed Laurent. He certainly—definitely—wanted to, but finding this vial of oil was very important to him, so it was important to Damen too. 

“We’ll find it,” he assured, leaning forward to kiss him. He got Laurent’s cheek and planted what he felt was a smart, appropriate kiss. And hopefully said ‘I would like to have sex with you at any point starting now.’ 

“We can do anything together, Laurent,” Damen slurred, kissing his temple. Oh. He was supposed to be looking. He rested his head beside Laurent’s—

“Here, sweet king.” Damen dipped his head, grabbing a vial with his teeth and presenting it to Laurent like a dog—a wolfish grin to match. “I found it for you."

* * *

“Not /here/, Damianos,” Laurent hissed, fingers flitting over the vials, lifting them to the light to see what colour shone through the dark liquids.

He would find whoever did this, whoever had disrespected both Damen and himself like this on a day that meant so much for them - for /Arles/. 

Laurent schooled his face, set his shoulders and went back to searching, a little more on edge as Damen prodded at his nerves, his sensibilities.

Laurent wanted out of this room.

The disdain in Laurent’s face softened for only a moment when Damen presented the vial of oil in the most insensible way possible. He plucked it from between his beloved’s teeth and his face hardened again as he worked to open it. 

This would only complicate the day, but there was nothing else they could do. Laurent certainly would not be doing a damn thing in this room, and they didn’t have the time anyway. They had a whole ceremony out there waiting for them, and Laurent was laced too tight to even attempt to undress. 

“Drink this,” Laurent said, but it wasn’t a hard order. There was an apology behind it, and even more so, a sense of hard-to-find sympathy in his tone as he handed over the vial. “Whole thing. All the way down.”

There wasn’t a /cure/ to this drug, but there was at least a way to dim its effects. Barely, but it would be something, and they needed /something/ right now.

Laurent kept his eyes on Damen, standing above him as he tended to him.

The green liquid would slow the effects. It would be a slow burning desire, it would make him uncomfortable, and it would prolong the effects past what burning it out is his system could, but it’s what they had. The usual use of this was literally to keep pets going for hours so one did not have to waste too much of the pleasure drug, but it made it manageable. It wasn’t /made/ for that, and usually it was meant to be mixed /before/ ingestion, but Laurent had been a resourceful teen. 

“It tastes like piss,” Laurent warned Damen a bit too long after, not thinking to have led with that.

* * *

“Drink oil?” Damen asked, confused. Laurent was so close to him, he swore he could feel breath on his neck. All he had to do was lean in and their lips would meet, he could pull Laurent into bed, fuck him senseless. Like the night before, just…more. Damen felt like maybe he could go for days, kissing, touching, learning every inch of his beloved king. 

He sat back, dumping the liquid down his throat in a single gulp that he hoped was impressive. A foul taste came up his throat a moment later though, and Damen coughed, clutching the bedsheet to keep himself balanced. It definitely tasted like piss. 

“Laurent,” he groaned, breathing hard as though that might make the sudden pain in his stomach go away. He squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head. This was horrible. He swore in Akielon, coughed a few more times, and then he felt…cold. Clammy, more like. 

The haze started to clear in his mind, at least enough that he could tell they were in the Regent’s chambers, that he was still drugged, and that they had a whole day of celebration planned that had yet to begin. Seeing Laurent so close still made him want to kiss him, to pull him to bed, but he at least knew that he would be a fool to try that in this wretched room. 

“It hasn’t worn off,” Damen grit out. “How long until it wears off?” 

He was going to be sick. “I need to eat something—I don’t feel well, Laurent. Please.”

Damianos was not afraid to ask when he was in need. And right now, his need was desperate. 

* * *

Laurent watched Damen as he rejected the liquid, but Laurent urged him to keep it down...from his spot beside the bed, just watching. He saw him go pale, break out into a sweat, watched his pupils shrink and his brow crease. 

He wished he had good news to give Damen.

“Longer than you’d expect,” he said to Damen with a frown, handing over a water he’d gathered in the baths. “Drink that.” It wouldn’t do much, but it was something until he could get Damen back to the study to get something in him. He’d be sick if he didn’t.

“In this, if you have to,” Laurent instructed, placing an ornate vase into Damen’s hands. Had Laurent not been a prince, he would have made an /amazing/ servant, and anyone would have paid a tremendous amount for him— until he opened his mouth, and then they would pay any amount of money to get rid of him.

He reached forward to touch Damen’s face, empathy on his expression because he /knew/ how this felt, but Damen was strong, and if he could just make it past the celebrations, Laurent would help him in any way he had to. 

They’d given Damen /so/ much.

“Stay here. I’ll be back for you.” 


	9. Part II: Simmer 2.2.20

Damen drank the water, but it felt slimy going down his throat. He shivered from the cooling sweat, and he was certain he looked worse than he felt, and he felt horrible. He couldn’t go out into court like this. He either felt sick, or felt like Laurent had just grabbed his cock and whispered something lewd in his ear. He didn’t feel like a king at all, he felt more like he should crawl into a bath and stay there for a few days.

He couldn’t remember feeling so intoxicated last time he’d taken the pleasure drug, and he couldn’t imagine how much they had given him to make him still feel like he’d taken a dose. Every time Laurent touched him it lit a fiery need in his belly, and if he looked at him too long he became enraptured with the idea of sneaking him off to bed. But he knew enough to know that even if he found release, the itch would only subside for a few minutes.

He was stuck, a pleasure slave dressed like a king.

Laurent had only been gone a moment when he threw up in the vase, doubled over on the side of the bed with phlegm stuck to his mouth and nose. It did make him feel a little better to see that his phlegm was purple, and some of the weight of his sickness left him. Only some.

“Laurent,” he said feebly, though he knew he wasn’t there. “I can’t do this. I can’t—“

The day hadn’t even begun, and Damen was seriously considering faking an emergency. He wasn’t sure if it was worse to back out on the day of celebrations or make an utter fool of himself in front of two kingdoms.

* * *

It was unfortunate that the two servants who had set out their breakfast for them were inside the study when Laurent stepped in to grab something for Damen. It was /very/ unfortunate.

For months, Laurent had been ruling quietly, ghosting about the halls and gardens, letting rumours fly about what kind of man he had become. Many had believed him to have gone soft, thought maybe finally being fucked had brought out some humanity in him.

Those two servants learned very differently in a matter of just a few seconds.

For now, they were the only lead Laurent had on this, and he unleashed on the both of them /hateful/ and /terrible/ things, ordering them both taken under guard and locked away until he had the time to question them. After that boy who had walked into his chambers today, he did not know a single person he could trust, he could give the benefit of the doubt to. His guards took the two servants, and when he stepped out this time to walk to his uncle’s rooms, he had an audience.

He slammed the door behind him.

The room smelled of sick, and he was at Damen’s side again in a moment, not to be turned away by mere illness.

“Here.” He placed the plate next to his beloved, an array of light breads, some fruit, another water, and then - much to his dismay - Laurent put a bit of distance between them, for both their sakes.

“Let it quell,” Laurent murmured, his hands crossed behind his back, pressed between his body and the wall he was using to keep himself supported. He was breathing oddly, but otherwise, he looked...fine. He wasn’t trying too hard to hide his feelings, but he’d definitely kept /some/ of them down.

* * *

Damen wasn’t too drugged to know Laurent was furious and that something had happened out there. Of course this was cause to make them both angry, but Damen was not in the mood. His vision was swimming, he could smell his own sick, and he just wanted this drug out of his body. Worse, he felt like maybe he had done something while he couldn’t remember, something to ruin the trust Laurent had given him. That felt the worst.

He moved to the edge of the bed and ate the bread first, not looking at Laurent. He knew if he did he would want to kiss him, to press him against that wall he was bracing against and remind him of what they had last night.

Instead he just kept his eyes down and ate bread and fruit, carefully washing it down with water. The food was an instant help, and by the time his plate was clean and his glass was empty he could only feel a simmering desire for Laurent that he knew he could…think about but not act on.

Damen went to the vanity and examined himself in the mirror. His face had regained some color, helped by the slight flush of his cheeks. No one here would notice except Laurent, Pallas, and Lydos. He used a cloth folded there to wipe his mouth clean.

He was shaking with anger when he approached Laurent, once /again/ feeling powerless.

He offered his arm. “I am not a beast,” he said quietly, almost unsure. “They expect us to still be dining, yes? And you have not eaten.” He cleared his throat, looking at the wall beside Laurent, not directly at him.

“I’m not a beast,” he said again. “I would never harm you, Laurent, I would never—“

He swallowed hard. “I didn’t—? Did I—?"

* * *

There was a long bit of silence where Damen ate and Laurent waited, pressed against the wall, grounding himself there. Even with as much as he loved Damen, he would have to leave him if their stay in this room extended much longer. He could feel himself agitate further, could feel them getting under his skin, and it felt ridiculous, and /he/ felt ridiculous. They were winning. He could feel that most of all! Damen was shaken, and not just from the illness, and Laurent was angry, sick in his own way.

His council’s sloppiest plans had worked so far, and that did not bode well for the rest of the day.

When Damen stood, Laurent watched him. It wasn’t wariness or worry for himself, but only for Damen that left him to stare. He made sure Damen could stand upright, could balance himself properly, and though there was a sluggish nature to his movements, it seemed he would pass as needed for the day.

Until the moments where the drug became too much.

It would be a constant fight throughout the day, but Laurent truly believed he would be able to manage it, if for spite alone.

Laurent reached out and touched Damen’s arms, steadied him as he neared, knowing he was safe. He had never expected Damen to do anything to him.

“Do you truly believe you would have been able to?” Laurent asked, and his tone was not one of joking, but he seemed happy enough to have Damen upright by his side. “You need not worry, and you are /not/ a beast. They meant for this to go very differently.”

But that didn’t mean the way it had gone had been ideal.

“You were very strong,” Laurent told Damen instead, and though he wanted to stay close, he knew better. He took a step back. “And I need you to continue to be, Damianos.” Laurent would cancel this whole event in a second if he felt that it wouldn’t benefit those against him even more than his dragging Damen out there. “What you drank will prolong the effects, but it will be a simmer and not a burn.”

They were trying to make the King of Akielos into a needy /pet/, and had Laurent been even a /touch/ more in need of assistance today, they would have gotten him as well. They must have heard his order for wine the night before, must have assumed he would drink.

He would tear them /apart/.

“Can you make it?” Laurent asked very seriously, eyes levelling with Damen. “If you cannot, I will find a way around this, Damianos. Trust that.”

* * *

Damianos most certainly did not want to go through this day. He wanted to strip down and roast himself in the baths, sweat out the drug and try again tomorrow. But they would not have the chance. They only had now, and Damen was drowsy with desire, far too sluggish to participate if anyone asked him for a show of force in any of the sports. Fuck. He hadn’t thought of that. He didn’t think he could so much as sit on a horse right now, let alone sit beside Laurent hand in hand all day.

He shook his head at Laurent’s praise. It wasn’t strong to think about forcing his betrothed into bed with him. It wasn’t strong to look exactly like the beast in rut that they all thought him to be. Instead of taking charge and showing Vere that he was a formidable king, he was to be carried by Laurent, barely able to register more than Laurent’s fingers or the curve of his perfect lips.

Even worse was that Laurent knew this drug and the green liquid that helped to dull it. It made Damen want to find the remained of the Regent and somehow deface them more than the animals that had picked his bones clean.

“I don’t know,” Damen said honestly. He swallowed hard, breaking eye contact with Laurent rather quickly. Didn’t he know how attractive he was? “The cold will help, I think. But I cannot participate in any events. I will make a fool of myself, they will make me look like any body with a hole is something I want to fuck.” He rubbed his eyes, then shook his head. “If I am given another dose then I will come back here and lock the doors. I will return to your chambers tomorrow when I am myself.”

Because right now he just wanted to pull Laurent to him, listen to his precious noises, make more marks on his neck.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I meant to do better for you. For Akielos.”

* * *

Laurent hated this for Damen - hated this for the both of them. He hated seeing Damen once more shamed by Vere, a land he /should/ be seen and respected in. Laurent wished he had a plan to counter this, wish there was something he could do to make this right...wished he had protected Damen better in the first place. He should have checked the drinks, should have checked the food. Laurent knew better than to /trust/, and yet, he had slipped up. /He/ was the one who should have been better for Damen.

“You will not return here,” Laurent did speak up, pulled from his silence by Damen’s ridiculous promise. “I would /never/ send you to these rooms.” He would send Damen someone proper, a suite where he could be cared for by Paschal. Laurent would be by his side, unafraid. This was Damen, after all. He would never hurt Laurent.

“There is still time.” Laurent wiped Damen’s brow, fixed his askew crown of golden branches. “It will be more difficult now, but we have faced and conquered more than this together, Damianos.”

Vere had not always been like this. The more time Laurent spent with Damen, the more and more he remembered that. The court had always been twisted, but never as much as it had been after the death of his father, his brother. Vere had been a respectable kingdom once, resplendent and esteemed. It could be that again. Damen could help this kingdom as he had Laurent.

“Do not let them conquer you if you never gave me that satisfaction,” Laurent levelled with him, even and authoritative.

* * *

“I was just drugged at my first meal,” Damen growled, closing his eyes when Laurent touched him and adjusted his crown. He couldn’t look. Confidence had never been a problem for him. Damianos of Akielos exuded confidence from every inch of him. But in Arles he found none. He felt like a child, running to hide behind Laurent’s legs at the first hint of danger. He was a king!

He grimaced at Laurent’s tone. “Please do not talk about giving you satisfaction,” he groaned. “And when you do that…that tone…” It was embarrassing how much his body was responding to Laurent giving him orders.

His cheeks reddened further and he swallowed thickly. The morning had started off decently, and now he was drugged, ashamed, and had no idea what had happened initially when he’d first been intoxicated.

“Let’s go,” Damen said, his eyes still closed. He couldn’t take Laurent’s hand right now, he would think too much about it. So he turned, pushing open the door and stepping into the hall, a bit unsteady. He could do this. It wasn’t so bad unless Laurent was staring at him. Instead, the whole of Arles seemed to be staring at him as he waited for his betrothed.

Together, they could do this. They had to.

* * *

It had been Laurent’s normal tone.

At the first opportunity to leave the room, Laurent took it, smartening his own clothing as he stepped out into the hall at Damen’s side. Laurent stood as close as he would be allowed without complicating anything, and when they returned to the study, their meal had been all but fully cleaned up.

Laurent did not miss that it was being done by two very different servants.

Despite knowing he would be unable to eat at a time like this, Laurent nearly let the two /new/ servants have it for clearing their meal before they were announced ‘finished’, but that would be unjust. Laurent would not give further undue satisfaction.

“Leave the wine,” Laurent ordered, taking his seat at the end of the table. He crossed one leg over the other, rested his arms easily on the chair’s rests. He needed a moment—

That he would never get.

“Your majesty.” This time, Huet stepped through the doors, done up in mere livery, but he was finely armed, with one extra dagger out of regulation. His captain had foreseen the troubles of today, it seemed. Laurent wondered if Jord was truly resting. “Exalted.” Huet bowed to Damen. “I heard there was issue taken with the servants who—“

“I handled it,” Laurent dismissed, reaching across the table and taking the left pitcher of wine by the handle before handing it over to Huet. “See that this makes it to Cylan,” he said flatly, too calm for all that was happening. “Pour him a glass. Tell him it is from me.”

Too sloppy.

He had to refocus, regroup, do better.

“Don’t let him drink it. Let him know it was drugged and served to me.”

“Your highness—“ Huet spoke up, alarmed, but Laurent waved him off.

“Let him know this is the second slight of one of his charges, and we will be discussing it at length tomorrow.”

“Your majesty,” Huet tried to speak again, but Laurent ended his rebuttal before it could begin.

“What I say, when I say it,” he reminded Huet of the adage of the Prince’s Guard, nodding to the door in an attempt to get him /moving/. “You will face no repercussions.”

“Of course, sir,” Huet finally bowed, “Right away, sir. Your majesty. Exalted.” He dipped his head and finally, he left, wine in hand.

Laurent visibly took an additional weight to his shoulders—

Which only seemed to grow when the sound of blaring horns sounded from just outside the stone walls. The day was set to begin, the festivities ready, and all Laurent could do was roll his blue eyes over to Damen.

Damen, who was supposed to make his mark today amongst the Veretians as ‘king.’ As /their/ future king! And they had debased him into a sybaritic, indulgent, pleasure-driven—

Laurent could handle this. He had to handle this.

“Tell me when you can no longer endure it,” Laurent murmured, rising to his feet, formidable despite himself. “Until then, consider it as close to being Veretian as you’ve ever been.”

* * *

Throughout the exchange, Damen had to focus on one point in the room and stick to it. Laurent was obviously furious, but hearing him take control had always been very attractive to Damen, and now it was even more so. He caught Huet’s eye for only a moment, and shame burned hot within him. Surely Huet could tell who had been drugged, because Damen could hardly stand still.

He was still fighting not to move when Laurent looked at him, and Damen could feel himself melting. Why did he have to be so beautiful when he was angry? Damen wanted nothing more than to move to his knees an beg for favor—

Yes, he was definitely drugged. And that gave him an idea. A horrible idea, but one that might work.

“Laurent,” he said, and couldn’t mask the desire in his voice. HIs cheeks went absolutely ruddy before he even spoke, but this was to save his kingdom from embarrassment. “If you mention this outside of this room I will—“ He swallowed, deeply embarrassed to the point he almost didn’t finish.

“Command me,” he managed to force out. “What is needed of me, command it. And then while we are out there, you should…remind me I will not get my reward if I continue to—“

He cut himself off, turning his head in shame.

“Do that and we may be able to make it appear as though nothing is the matter. I…respond well with a good prize. I can think of no better one than being with you, so I believe we can use that to our advantage while I am in this ridiculous, embarrassing state."

* * *

Laurent’s expression took on something like despair at what Damen asked of him. /Commanding/ Damen was one of the /worst/ things he could do out there. Laurent needn’t remind Damen of the time he’s jumped up to serve Laurent in front of his own Akielon men. The people in Vere would only take that as their own personal victory.

Admittedly, that might be perfect in the eyes of the Veretians, but it would not gain Damen the respect he needed. It may also lead to him /losing/ the respect of his own people in the process.

Laurent shook his head, pushed out of his chair with his arms crossed over his torso.

“I am playing enough games, Damianos,” he cut, pushing as he was so apt to do in times of stress like this, in times where he was overwhelmed, vulnerable. “One of us needs to be focused on this union, and /you/ are currently indisposed—“

That wasn’t Damen’s fault. Laurent could not put that on him. Not when Damen needed him. Not when he needed Damen.

Laurent brought his thumb and middle finger to pinch the bridge of his fine nose.

They didn’t have time for this.

“Go,” Laurent ordered, as much as he did not want to. He could not promise anything out there. He needed to protect Damen, and not showing him at his best could be absolutely detrimental to this union. “They are waiting for us.”

* * *

Indisposed. As if Damen had gotten drunk during breakfast or hurt himself running around the palace. He was trying to help, trying to force his lust-drenched brain into responding to something other than his cock. His focus was on his kingdom. His focus was on making sure he didn’t completely ruin any chance he had at salvaging his reputation here.

He had been trying to find something useful and Laurent had cut him at the knees.

“I meant here,” Damen hissed, but it lacked edge. “I won’t be treated as a pleasure slave out there in front of them—not that kind of game.”

But Laurent’s command had set him in motion before he could think, and he headed for the door. He could do this. The last time he had been here he wasn’t even allowed to touch Laurent. He could handle a few hours of entertainment seated beside him now. It would /not/ be too much to endure.

To prove it, he took Laurent’s hand once they were both in the hall, bringing his knuckles to his lips and pressing a kiss there. Of course he wanted to lower Laurent’s hand to a particularly needy piece of him, but Damen returned their hands between them and smiled warmly at those passing by.

He could do this.

* * *

Laurent almost snatched his hand away from Damen when he felt the warmth of his fingers, unsure as to what Damen might do with it, and he was pleasantly surprised when Damen just /held/ his hand, kissed him like usual. No weight lifted from Laurent’s shoulders, but he did breathe easier under that perfect posture of his. He needed to calm down and believe Damen could do this. It would be fine.

By the time they made it through the threshold of the indoor arena, the seats were filled with Akielons and Veretians alike, and for that brief moment, Laurent was overcome enough to /smile/. It was faint, more in his eyes than in his lips, but he couldn’t help himself.

There was a reaction to his smile, but it was easily lost to the reaction of Damen and Laurent, Kings of Akielos and Vere, hand in hand, entering to be with their people.

Laurent hated that the moment was tainted by his sudden worrying that Damen might not be okay.

It was a /long/ walk to the freedom of this. They had to walk through the centre of the arena, up the steps and to their matching thrones. Luckily, the indoor arena was made for more contact sports, smaller than one used for horse sports and the other outdoor activities Damen claimed they were not practicers of, but it would still be a long walk with all eyes on them.

Laurent squared up and led the way, effortless and ethereal - unlike his grip on Damen’s hand.

The lords of Vere lined the seats beside Laurent’s throne - one level down, thank the heavens - and Damen’s throne was extended by an equal number of chairs for the representatives he’d brought along. It was a deceivingly easy blend of cultures.

The little gate of the railing that separated the kings from the arena swung shut, and after the climb of just a few stairs, they were finally able to sit.

All the arena followed.

Laurent did not look down at his council, but out over all the others, scanning the intimate crowd. The spread was uneven, and the addition of all the pets made it so Veretians outnumbered the Akielons, but it was bound to happen that way anyway.

In the stands, Laurent did see - perhaps most surprisingly - a few Akielon soldiers running their hands through the hair of a few Veretian pets, knelt before them, some even in their laps.

His eyes moved to Damen, wondered if he could think of /anything/ through all of what he was going through.

* * *

Damen felt dazed by it all, like everything was happening someplace else. He could see everything, of course, but it wasn’t affecting him. If he stared straight ahead he couldn’t even really remember that Laurent was beside him, he just knew that he wanted to be pleasured, but even that was a strange want in the moment.

His gaze didn’t shift when the crowd roared and their entrance, but a wide, empty smile came to his face on instinct. Laurent held him somewhat still as he walked, scuffing his foot only once on the gravel. His weight shifted oddly, but he managed to keep it together somewhat, though the journey to their thrones seemed to last forever.

But they did finally make it, and Damen released Laurent’s hand the moment they sat down. He could not think about Laurent’s slender fingers in his, nor even look at him. So Damen slouched back against the seat of his throne, the hand closest to Laurent now at his jaw, holding his head upright and blocking his view of his betrothed.

He tried to gaze at the crowd, but instead saw a pet dressed in nothing but jewels and translucent fabric that framed his rear and Damen could only see Laurent, his back to him, jewels dripping down his back, that scant fabric hiding nothing.

So he focused his gaze on the middle of the empty arena, vacant and detached.

* * *

“Water,” Laurent told a passing servant, motioning to Damen. He imagined Damen wouldn’t have the mind to ask for it on his own, but he would desperately need it. His body was running hot, whether he noticed that or not, and Laurent at least wanted to help where he could. He could tell by the way Damen had walled him off that he wasn’t exactly thinking clearly.

So Laurent turned his eyes out to enjoy the sight of their people, their cultures, mingled under the roof of Arles, and a warmth spread in Laurents chest that did not make it to his expression.

Auguste would be proud if he saw this, Laurent thought. If he saw the strides Laurent had made to strengthen both the infrastructure and the culture of Vere.

 _“I would distance myself from him, too._ ”

Laurent heard it somewhere to his left, a comment amidst the general noise that had started back up when the Kings took their seat.

_“Perhaps he is drunk.“_

Somewhere to the right.

_“The king has probably drugged him to keep him by his side.”_

“Is there not entertainment?” Laurent spoke up, louder than the rest, effectively silencing most of the arena. Good. They /should/ be silent if they did not know how to speak of their kings.

There was a commotion below, and a moment later, two Akielon men stepped out into the arena. Veretian interests were piqued elsewhere.

Oh, poor Damen.

As was the culture, the Akielon soldiers stripped themselves of their chitons and dipped their hands into the oil - a sight many Veretians had not expected at all, and even found quite a spectacle even for /their/ tastes, but there were no complaints. Laurent saw from the corner of his eye as a few pets switched positions.

He kept his eyes straight ahead.

He still refused to strip naked when he wrestled in the Akielon fashion.

He decided not to say anything about it out loud to Damen now.

* * *

The only benefit of the drug was that Damen was warm. A lethargic kind of warm that usually came in the lazy haze of desire, the kind where he would like to simply watch naked women bathe each other or something else erotic but not lewd. He felt sickness bubbling up within him and closed his eyes for a moment to quell it. He could not vomit in front of his people. Nikandros would probably hear it from Ios and send a battalion.

Entertainment, yes.

Damen took a glass of water offered to him by a servant and started gulping it down, taking two large swallows before he set it beside him. Best to pace himself, he wasn’t sure how much water he could get away with drinking at an event like this.

When his gaze refocused, he saw two men in the arena, both muscled and attractive. He knew their names…somewhere in his head. Two warriors Nikandros and Pallas had selected. Hec…No, that wasn’t it. Something that started with a sharp sound.

The two men began sparring, and Damen watched with passive interest. He did not see two naked bodies covered in oil but instead saw two game pieces, recognized their patterns and movements. He could beat either of them easily. One left his back exposed far too often, and the other kept favoring his left.

No, his gaze wandered to a blond pet draped over the lap of one of his soldiers. The pet watched the fight, clearly interested in the erotic aspects of two naked men sparring, as his soldier ran his fingers through the pet’s fine hair.

The pet shifted when one of the warriors made a daring attempt to pin the other, whispering in the ear of his soldier, and even from a distance Damen could see that he had full, pink lips that looked like Laurent’s after a night of fucking.

The pet caught him looking as he continued speaking to Damen’s soldier, and Damen noticed that he was arranging himself so that Damen could have better view of his pale skin, muscled flank, and light eyes. They weren’t blue, but they were close enough for Damen’s fantasies.

How beautiful Laurent would look against him in such a way, tempting the eyes of all around but only eyeing him. Damen would take him to the gardens, too taken by those full lips to bother with celebrations. How nice they would look around his—

The Akielon soldier rose to his feet to cheer for the wrestler he had likely bet on, and Damen’s gaze was broken from the pet.

Back in the ring, the taller Akielon was scrambling to fight where he had been pinned, but Damen could see already that he had lost. He took up his water, taking long sips.

He could feel the pet looking at him as the arena was set for a second round, and out of the corner of his eye Damen saw pale legs spreading wide, the pet whispering sweet nothings into the ear of his increasingly more interested soldier.

“Laurent,” Damen said under his breath, his voice strangled with lust. Then he realized Laurent making this decision would not be appropriate. He leaned forward in his throne, deciding on Elon (the only name he could remember).

“Elon,” Damen called, motioning for him to come up to the throne. Elon had not taken a pet, and scurried to Damen’s side, dropping to a knee.

“Yes, Exalted.”

“Who is the soldier there?” Damianos asked, pointing to the soldier who was enraptured by the blond pet now in his lap kissing the daylights out of him, his eyes very much on Damen.

“Saylos,” Elon said, not hiding his disagreement with Saylos’ current occupation.

“I want him put in the games,” Damen said. “See how his pet likes him when he loses.”

“Of course, Exalted,” Elon said briskly. “And what shall I do with his pet in the meantime? He was a gift from Lord Cylan of Vere.”

It took Damen a moment to answer, he was watching the pet wriggling in Saylos’s lap.

“His pet may attend him while he prepares. I am sure there are others who can occupy him when Saylos cannot.” He lifted a hand, and it moved a bit too far, brushing Elon’s cheek. Elon, a good soldier, merely blinked, pretending not to notice. “No harm is to come to that pet,” Damen said, and he knew he sounded a bit slurred. “Understood?”

“Exalted,” Elon said in answer, nodding. He hesitated a moment, then rushed off.

Damen forced himself to watch the arena as the next round of wrestling began.

* * *

Laurent did not notice the pet at first. Having hours of Akielon training at his back now, he watched the fight with calmly masked interest. He watched the two men, trained well enough to be out of the basic grapples, but so evenly matched that it all /seemed/ to be the basic grapples. A few moves were familiar from when he had last seen and studied Damen, but even the grapples he had not yet learned he could see the flaws in as they happened. Too high a hold, to hard a turn, bad footing...

And then the fight was over. /This/ was where cultures would momentarily clash, and Laurent had been anticipating it.

While the Akielons cheered their victor, the Veretians still sat, having not yet seen what /they/ believed to be the determining factor of the sport. Many were already divulged in their pets, waiting for this pivotal moment, but the two men just...stood, grasped forearms and bowed as their garments were handed back to them. There was no mounting, no rutting, no climax. Just a wrestling match.

Laurent would have been amused if he did not already know that, soon, the Veretian style of wrestling would be displayed before them. He was not sure how that would affect Damen /or/ the rest of his people.

He did applaud the victor of the march as he bowed to his kings—

And /that/ was when Laurent saw the pet.

The little whore was splayed out, putting on a show for Damen so boldly and shamelessly that Laurent almost admired the boy’s spirit. In fact, had it not been for Damen’s predisposition in this moment, he maybe have urged the pet on for a good show, but Laurent was /hardly/ in the mood right now, and all the pet did was manage to pull Laurent back into a sour headspace.

“Huet—“ Laurent began, but then Damen was calling his attention...and handling the pet. Laurent made a hand motion for Huet to stand down as he listened to his lust-drunk betrothed /handle/ it.

“What are you planning?” Laurent asked quietly as the next two soldiers stepped into the ring.

He watched as the pet - and the soldier beneath him - were approached, watched Damen’s man relay the king’s message. The soldier - Saylos - seemed to take great /pride/ in being called to fight by the king. His pet pouted visibly as he slunk off Saylos’ lap, followed him into the sidelines to attend to him.

Laurent watched that pet eye Damen the entire time he passed.

Bold little thing...

Laurent turned back to the ring— just in time to see Cylan turning his head /away/ from where Laurent had just been staring as well.

And more than that, Laurent noticed Lucien was not by Cylan’s feet.

“Water,” Laurent ordered of a servant again, staring over his court individually, assessing the situation in entirety while he had a moment.

Mathe had his new boy at his feet - the one who had delivered clothing to Laurent’s room earlier that morning - comfortably knelt and watching the matches. From here, Laurent could see this boy was surprisingly of age, which did not fit at all with Mathe’s usual type. Cylan had a new boy with him as well, but he was not knelt where Lucien usually sat. He was in Cylan’s lap, curled up, playing as interested in the sport below.

In fact, when Laurent saw the whole picture, all but Vannes had been accompanied by pets today, and there was an /exceptional/ number of them in the crowd. More than usual despite there being /half/ the number of Veretians in the stands.

Laurent turned his cool gaze away from his council and back over to—

The pet.

He was standing there beside Damen, tucking his hair behind his ear, biting his lip in a display of faux timidity. But he did not go to Damen directly. He knelt beside Elon, disappearing out of Laurent’s line of sight on the lower level, but even then, Laurent could spy the top of his pale head, indicating he was far too close for a man under Damen’s influence. But the boy was Veretian. Laurent should have expected as much.

* * *

“Thank you at keeping safe,” the pet said in a voice that managed to be both seductive and seemingly genuine in gratitude all at once, despite his truly horrible Akielon. Elon was blushing, clearly not having intended for the pet to follow /him/ up to Damianos, but here they were, and Damen knew this pet was trying to get his attention. And it was /working/. The was curled up against Elon’s bare chest, directly in Damen’s line of sight if he looked left.

He must have cost a fortune. his hair wasn’t goldspun like Laurent’s, his was platinum, but lacked the shine it needed to have him be a truly priceless pet. Even so, with all of the white gold in it, it was hard to tell otherwise. It made his pink lips stick out more, the dusting of peach on his cheeks that much more noticeable.

Elon looked wholly uncomfortable, hands stuck at his sides, intently focused on the ring as Sylos entered and bowed to his king. Damen gave him only a curt nod, shifting in his seat, not even realizing he’d shifted closer to the pet and away from Laurent.

The pet made a soft noise when the match began, and Damen instantly thought of the soft noises Laurent made in bed at the height of his pleasure. His fingers curled at the arms of his throne and he bit hard on the inside of his cheek to keep his damn cock from going hard, though it was much too late for that.

“Understand Veretian?” the pet asked in stunted Akielon.

Elon faltered, ultimately shaking his head. “Not well, no. Learning.”

“I can help you,” the pet said in that seductive tone. Damen /knew/ he wasn’t talking to Elon. “Alleviate that ache,” the pet continued in Veretian. “Give you exactly what you want.“

Damen was sweating. He blinked, grabbing for the water and drinking it down, completely ignoring the fight in the ring. Worse, Sylos was making a fool of his opponent, a much better match than Damianos had intended.

“Ah,” the pet gasped. “Look at Sylos, so strong. No one could match him. Look at his marvelous shoulders. ” He was still speaking Veretian, clearly uninterested in Elon, who was trying to explain he couldn’t understand.

Damen could crush Sylos in a match.

“Pity it isn’t in Veretian style,” the pet sighed. “I would volunteer to fight him if only to have him mount me. Look at the size of him.”

Another pet laughed, but it was of the jealous kind.

Damen swallowed thickly and had to force himself to lean away and toward Laurent. In the ring, Sylos had his hands raised in victory, the crowd cheering in approval. He bowed to Damianos, who didn’t get a chance to say a word to Laurent and instead clapped in approval, nodding to Sylos. He would have to come up with some kind of gift, one better than Cylan’s priceless pet. Curse that damned lord.

“Oh,” the pet moaned, watching eagerly as Sylos approached—when had he put on his chiton? “Here he comes. I hope he beds me immediately, I can’t wait another moment.” Damen was losing track of time, every part of him focused on the fucking pet. Fucking the pet. Fucking his mouth, into his hands, into /him/ and finding those sweet sounds—

“Fuck,” Damen breathed, his body rigid as he fought every drugged instinct that told him claim this pet for himself. He /had/ to stay silent. He had to.

“Exalted,” Elon said, having slipped away from the pet to Laurent’s side, head dipped to the ground, still facing the ring—as though Laurent had called to him. “I am loyal to you as I am to Damianos,” he began in a whisper Damen couldn’t hear, fully aware how horrifically inappropriate it was for a soldier to address a king without being summoned. This was an emergency. “Something is wrong with Damianos. I do not wish to alarm you, but I think he may have been drugged—or poisoned. Would you like me to call his physician? I will create a reason—he looks as though he is worsening quickly. We do not have much time."

* * *

Laurent couldn’t say he paid much attention to the match in the ring when he just /knew/ that pet was talking. He couldn’t hear him - not over the sounds of the ring and the noise of the crowd - but he /knew/ he was talking, weaving some little web, /complicating/ things.

And then his attention was called elsewhere by the soldier that had brought the pet up here.

Laurent levelled his eyes on the soldier, keeping his face tame as the man recounted the issues he saw in Damen. Of course he’d not been able to hide it - the dosage was more than even Laurent had ever received, made to match a man of Damen’s size and then some.

“Poisoned?” Laurent asked in feigned surprise, looking over to Damen for a moment and taking in the fact that he /did/ look quite terrible right now. But Laurent couldn’t have the Akielon guard /knowing/ he’d been poisoned, especially in Vere on his first stay since his imprisonment here. It wouldn’t read well, and would go over worse.

“I tried my hand at preparing his breakfast today,” Laurent murmured, and where it would have been ridiculous to ever think of royalty preparing meals, most knew better than to ever assume anything of Laurent of Vere. “Surely you do not think it was /so/ bad?”

Laurent could call Paschal, explain this whole thing and have it easily brushed away, but he knew better than to think the Akielons would be satisfied with that.

“Bring the physician,” agreed Laurent conspiratorially. “We will meet with him in the leisure room before the Veretian tournament.”

And then he would handle /that/.

The fight went on before them, but Laurent was focused everywhere else, unable to keep track of who was saying what, how many nobles were looking at them, how many soldiers were staring at /Damen/, and /then/ at him.

Fuck, indeed.

“Damianos,” Laurent murmured as the match finished before them, his hand finding Damen’s and /squeezing/ it to catch and hold his attention.

“And now,” the herald in the ring announced as the final Akielons were escorted out of the arena. He spoke in Veretian first, and then repeated himself fully in Akielon. “We will have a short break of leisure and we will return to wrestling in the Veretian style.”

Laurent dragged Damen to his feet and everyone stood with them, some pets having to be removed from their activities so that their masters might stand. It wasn’t unlikely for the king to take his leisure elsewhere during the short intermission, so Laurent did not worry about that, but he could do without /the state of his betrothed as they exited/.

He heard the term ‘bitch’ on his way through the threshold.


	10. Part II: Evenly Matched (09.02.2020)

Damianos was not feeling well by the time Laurent had grabbed his hand. He stood on shaky legs, sweating and breathing hard as Laurent led him somewhere else. Everything was blurring, including time. He could hear nothing of what was going on outside and had no idea the fight was in intermission. He could only hear that pet moaning in Sylos’ arms and see the way the world spun around him.

They entered the leisure room, and Damen broke free of Laurent to rush over to a decorative bowl, vomiting up his breakfast into it. He tried to catch his breath only to vomit again, unaware that his physician, Leopold, was at his side, unpinning his cloak and careful placing it over the arm of the chaise at the edge of the room. Elon posted outside, glaring at anyone who passed the closed doors.

Leopold was not Akielon, but he had been a trusted friend of Damen’s father’s physician. He attended Damen when he left the palace, and was well educated in the risks that could be posed to a traveling king. Damen had never once wavered in his admiration for Laurent, so Leopold was unconvinced the King of Vere had anything to do with this sickness.

“He has not been poisoned,” Leopold said, guiding Damen to sit back to rest against a wardrobe. He dabbed his forehead with a wet cloth, relieving him of the sweat. “You already knew that.”

He placed two fingers to open Damen’s eye, inspecting closely. “In fact, you have already given him a countermeasure,” Leopold murmured. He stood, moving over to his satchel to pull out a cloth bag, a mortar, and a pestle. Black rocks tumbled from the bag and Leopold began to grind them, unconcerned that Damen was still on the ground panting.

“Laurent did nothing wrong,” Damianos croaked. His eyes fell closed, head lolling as the room spun.

Leopold was busy grinding up the stones and pouring them into a glass of water, mixing up a black liquid. He dipped his head as he presented the water to Laurent. “Help him drink this. It will ease his stomach and lessen the length of the effects.”

He returned to his satchel, pulling out a small bushel of mint.

“He may only eat bread until this passes,” Leopold warned. “Chewing mint leaves will help keep him from overheating, and after the wrestling I will have him vomit again. You seem to be aware enough of the effects of this drug, and I am aware of Veretian wrestling.” Leopold was far too old to be embarrassed about such trivial things as sex. He had attended Damen in his youth when he had visited Kesus in the height of adolescence—nothing fazed him now.

“I will not tell a king what to do unless it is to save his life,” Leopold explained. “But it may be best for appearances if Damianos is pleasured once or twice before leaving here. Exhaustion will help keep him from such a state.” He knew Laurent, the Frigid King. Damen spoke of him like he was as warm as the starburst dangling in his ear, but Leopold was not to judge. “Be it by his own hand, a pet’s, or someone else’s, it may alleviate him long enough for the next display of fighting."

* * *

Laurent led Damen so far as the threshold into the leisure room before letting him go do what it was he needed. The bowl he’d chosen to vomit in had been a Kemptian gift from his mother’s home, but Laurent could do nothing about that now. The bowl would wash and dry without cracking.

He moved more slowly over to Damen then, hovering, his hands outstretched and ready to guide Damen as needed, but Leopold stepped in and Laurent followed from there, ultimately crouching next to the area where Damen was being treated.

“He drank from my cup,” Laurent lied easily, taking the bowl of water so that Leopold may have both hands to help Damen through this. “It seems one of my own thought to liven the day for us, and I passed my cup to him.”

Laurent did so love the grey areas that Damen hated to play in.

It only helped that, even as he lost the contents of his stomach, Damen still vouched whole-heartedly for his beloved.

Laurent couldn’t help but give the smallest smile, even if it was mostly empathetic.

He took the water from Leopold and tilted Damen’s head back, pressing the glass to his lips and giving him a soft, “This probably won’t taste like piss,” before tipping the dark liquid into his mouth a little at a time. While doing that, he regarded what Leopold had to say, and Laurent made a mental note to order mint leaves and bread immediately. He understood why there could not be an attendant in this room, if he very much would have liked one.

In fact, he would have preferred a pet to be in there in that moment, if only to filter the physician.

“I will see to it,” Laurent replied dutifully, but with a disconnected calm. “Thank you, Leopold.”

And then Laurent just sat there for a moment, trying to think of /any/ way to do this /efficiently/. Using his mouth wasn’t an option after what he’d been through today, and that was not something he would want to explain to Damen, so he had to think up a secondary plan, and he truly did not have much time to do it. He could use his hand, sure, but then one of their fine outfits would be stained and—

Laurent stood and crossed the room with sharp intent, opening the door to address Elon.

“Bring the pet,” Laurent ordered, thinking it most effective to give Damen something - or someone - to empty in/to/.

* * *

Damen drank the water and nearly threw up again, but with a hand over his mouth he managed to keep it down. It was horrible, worse than piss in its own way, but once it settled in his stomach he started to feel better. Much better, actually, though he was still hot and needy for touch. He felt he could handle it if he had to go back out there now that he didn’t feel like he was going to spew. He realized he probably smelled horrible.

Damen groaned, leaning back against the headboard as Leopold made a silent exit out the servants’ door. Laurent was at the front door, and Damen caught Elon’s face in the doorway before he disappeared.

That likely meant only one thing.

“I will attend myself,” Damen rasped. He certainly didn’t want Laurent forced to deal with him, and he hoped like hell Laurent didn’t think someone else should. He had made a point in Akielos to be devoted to Laurent and Laurent only—Arles would not change that.

He struggled to stand, and it reminded him of his agonizing recovery in Ios where he hobbled about like a crone for weeks on end.

The servant door opened just as Damen got to his feet and—

The pet.

“Laurent!” Damen snarled, thoroughly insulted. “Absolutely not. /No./“

“Your majesties,” the pet said in that sensuous tone. “I am here to serve.”

* * *

“Damen, sit back down,” Laurent ordered over his shoulder as he made his way to the little blonde pet, eyeing him up and down. It wouldn’t be unlike his court to send a diseased pet to the Akielons, and Laurent was looking for the signs in this one. He didn’t see any pocks, sores, or rashes, and it wasn’t as if the boy had anything he could hide through the silk he was wearing.

“What is your age?” Laurent asked, and even with all of his confidence, he could see a small wavering in the pet as he was addressed directly by the cold king of Vere.

“Fifteen,” the boy said proudly, only to be met with a doubtful stare from Laurent. No, this boy was of age. Laurent knew the signs to look and listen for, and this pet was into his maturity, not much older or younger than Laurent.

“Seventeen,” the pet tried again, and Laurent raised his brow.

“That is twice you’ve lied to me,” said Laurent, levelled and calm, at his most dangerous. “I won’t stand for a third time.”

The pet hesitated before tilting up his chin and answering in his already broken voice, “Twenty years, your highness.”

Laurent nodded and gestured towards the chaise across the room. “Strip,” he ordered, watching Damen as the pet crossed the room, easily pulling loose his silks and obeying Laurent’s secondary order of, “On your hands and knees. There.”

The pet sweetly climbed onto the lounge, clearly excited for what this little meeting may have in store for him. Laurent turned to Damen, expectant.

* * *

Damen felt sick for a new reason now. The boy was attractive, covered in jewels but not paint. He was clearly placed in Damen’s sight for a reason, and even up close Damen could see he had to be near priceless in contract value. And he was not fifteen. Damen wasn’t surprised to hear that he was only a year younger than Laurent, because one of his first thoughts was that the boy looked like Laurent had when they first met. If Laurent had less beautiful hair and was a pleasure pet.

The pet shed his clothing like it hadn’t been there to begin with, and Damen was physically unable to stop himself from looking. The boy was slender, graceful, but had little of the muscle Laurent had. And his jaw was softer, his eyes rounder, and lips fuller. It was like he had been bred just for this moment and Damen hated it.

The pet presented himself, eyes locked in Damianos where he sat on the floor.

“I’m not a beast,” Damen grit out, though his cock was straining beneath his chiton in a fashion not close to subtle.

To prove his earlier point, he puked the string of his chiton and let it fall around him before he drunkenly made his way out of it, pushing it aside.

He took himself in hand stared directly at Laurent, cheeks hot with shame that he had to do this in front of a pet, but he would not fuck anyone that wasn’t Laurent of Vere.

Even if his eyes kept wandering to the gaping blond who looked as though he may as well have Damianos inside him.

“I won’t—do it.”

* * *

“Then don’t,” Laurent replied evenly, eyes on Damen and Damen only. He leans back against the wall behind him, arms crossed over one another. “But he /is/ here, and he /is/ willing.”

More than willing, it actually seemed. Damianos dropped his chiton and the pet nearly drooled. He did stare, wide-eyed and wanting, if not a bit nervous. Damen was a lot, more than most had ever had. Laurent would never say he was used to it, but he could say he’d...worked his way around it.

“From behind, he almost looks like me,” Laurent murmured, his head tilted as he watched Damen - and Laurent could realise that Damen was a sight to behold like this. He’d not seen him like this in some time without it being mere preparation /for him/.

“He is a hole, Damianos,” and a wide one at that, I matter which end you stuck it in. “If you need to use him to feel better, you may. It does not threaten me.”

Laurent could not be of help here, he couldn’t. He had more going on in his head than he liked to admit, and this just was not something he would be able to do without /pushing/ at some point during it, and he wouldn’t. That’s what /they/ wanted.

But Laurent was /talking/. A lot. Which meant he was uncomfortable, and that was something Damen had pointed out to him once, so he knew Damen would worry about it. But opening up and being honest in front of this /pet/ hardly interested Laurent.

So, while the pet was focused on Damen, and /actually/ drooling, for the briefest of moments, Laurent let his face soften, and he nodded towards the boy.

He wanted to help.

* * *

It wasn’t like they had ever discussed a situation like this, but Damen knew full well he would not approve of Laurent taking a pet, even drugged. Of course, that was because Damianos could find time to bed Laurent any time of day. Laurent could probably ask him at literally any moment, and Damen would whisk him off without question. He knew it was not the same for Laurent.

And Laurent was actually approving this. Damen didn’t know why that hurt, but it did. Did Laurent not think him strong enough? Did Laurent think his head could be turned by anyone else? ‘

Yet his body yearned for it. The desire was crushing to the point that he couldn’t even see Laurent beyond the haze of lust. He didn’t want this. That pet should not be there. He was better than this. He was /not/ a beast.

And yet a few moments later he was standing behind that same pet, fucking into him with reckless abandon—exactly what his cock had wanted. The pet was senseless with pleasure, making soft noises into the chaise when he probably should have been moaning, but couldn’t find the mental capacity. Damen had a hold of his hips, too soft to be Laurent, until he was pumping release into a whining lover whose own release already coated the cushion.

The haze lifted significantly, and Damen pulled out as soon as he was finished, thoroughly disgusted with himself. He felt filthy, much like he had in the gardens when Laurent had humiliated him with Ancel.

“Exalted,” the pet gasped out. “. _..Exalted_.”

Damen grabbed up his chiton, tying it on himself with methodical precision. He grabbed up his cloak, pinning it on his shoulder with shaking hands, still horrified. He had failed Akielos, his countrymen, his betrothed. A drug still pulsed in his system, but that was no excuse for /this/. He wanted to be angry at the pet, but it wasn’t his fault. he had capitalized on a situation and gained a reward far greater than even he would ever realize.

“Elon,” Damen called, and his man appeared a moment later in the doorway. Damen didn’t have to see him to know he was disappointed in his once-noble king. “The jewelry set from Mellos.” He didn’t have to say what it was for. “Allow this man to dress and take him with you. He is not to return to the arenas today.”

“Exalted,” Elon said quietly. He dared to look to Laurent, unsure if he should listen. Frankly, he did not believe Damianos had done it, though the evidence was still leaking from the boy who was a heap of limbs on the chaise. Surely this had been some sort of…lover’s game. Something for pleasure for both of them.

* * *

It was methodical - /necessary/. Damen was in physical need of something Laurent could not give. It was only right that he pursued it. What may have felt like a failure to Damen was merely a means to an end, a way to return to their people and pretend this has never happened.

He’d not seen Damen fuck like this in a while, and Laurent had to admit, it interested him. Damen was not a beast - unless Laurent said he was, and then, it was only teasing - but he could fuck in a way that Laurent could only describe as beast-like. He'd never been on the receiving end of it, had never just been a means to an end for Damen.

He was just as beautiful like this.

Damen always said he wanted to fuck in the way Laurent liked, and Laurent supposed he never /had/ asked Damen how /he/ liked it.

Another problem for another time.

The pet was wrecked in the few moments Damen had him, and Laurent busied himself on the after moments crossing to the little table set for them during their leisure. He poured Damen a water while the pet gasped out for the Akielon King, picked a few leaves from the plate and, with a quick sniff, confirmed they were the needed mint leaves.

Damen had pulled out, was dressing as required.

Laurent readied a cool towel.

Once Elon had been gathered, and the boy has been taken out - staring lustily at Damen the whole time he gathered his silks - Laurent crosses over to his betrothed. He could not ever recall walking with the spent gait of the boy, and Laurent could not be certain whether the pet’s newfound limp was a ploy or not.

“Open,” Laurent said curtly as he crossed the room, still so systematic, still so analytic as he tried to solve problem after problem in the most efficient way possible. They had their people to return to. He held out a few mint leaves for Damen, acting as if /none/ of that had even just happened.

* * *

Laurent was right there when Elon was gathering up the pet, and Damen wasn’t sure he’d ever been more ashamed. He loved Laurent so much, and if this drove a wedge between them he didn’t know what he would do. He would never forgive himself if he knew he was the cause of pain in those beautiful blue eyes.

Damen took the water and drank greedily, then put the mint leaves in his mouth to chew on. The cool taste was nice on his tongue, an stopped him from having to say words he could not. Sex had felt like a transaction his entire life—something to be enjoyed like wine or sports. But Laurent had his heart, and Damen felt he had done something to tarnish that.

“I hate them,” Damen said, shaking his head. “I was supposed to stand with you today, instead I have disgraced my commitment to you and dishonored my entire kingdom. And we haven’t even eaten lunch. Oh, and I’ll be made to vomit again in an hour. That is the only positive I can think of.”

He sighed, tentatively reaching over to gently caress Laurent’s jaw. He didn’t deserve a man like him.

“I’m so sorry,” Damen whispered. “What would you like me to tell them when that pet talks? I will not dishonor you further."

* * *

“There is /no/ disgraced commitment,” Laurent corrected Damen, touching the back of Damen’s hand where it rested on his face only briefly. Laurent’s mind was still elsewhere, as it almost always was, but it only ever truly showed with Damen. It was the only time Laurent warred with it, tried to be in the moment when his mind was off quantifying all the other problems that surrounded them.

“To be served by a pet is not something to despair about,” Laurent told Damen. And it wasn’t! But even more than that, if the pet did talk, it helped strengthen the wall of Laurent’s reputation. It made him that same, cold anomaly the people did not understand, it took away a weakness they saw in him, even if Damen was still very much that weakness.

“If the pet talks, your reputation in Vere improves.“ Damen would be seen in taking part in Vere’s most revered past time. He would be seen as being above the pets, which was very much where he needed to be. “

If the pet talks, my court knows they tried to drive a wedge between us and /failed/.” Because Laurent was /not/ hurt. It was a task that needed to be completed, and that was all.

He pushed two more mint leaves in Damen’s mouth and handed over the wet cloth he’d prepared. It would be cold now, but Damen should have been more efficient.

“I will grab the oils, you clean yourself up. We’ve a gathering to attend before you are allowed to vomit.”

* * *

Damen hated that Laurent was right about the pet. The boy would undoubtedly talk and flaunt his jewels from the king of Akielos. Damen didn’t want to gain favor by fucking someone who wasn’t Laurent. He didn’t want to encourage pets either, though pet contracts were more agreeable to Damianos than most servants. That pet would be well compensated for his time—the jewelry would be priceless in the eyes of everyone except Veretian nobility.

He smiled softly as Laurent pushed the mint leaves past his lips, nibbling Laurent’s fingers the way Nikri might have. Laurent was too good for him, and Damen could feel his desire bubbling up again, though he was feeling better now.

He kissed Laurent’s cheek before taking the cloth and attending himself, thankful for the uncomfortable cold to quell his lust. It worked well.

“I don’t remember the matches,” Damen admitted after he as clean. “I don’t…I don’t remember much of anything after I drank the wine.” He looked to Laurent, wising he could be better for him. “What event is next? The swordsmanship?"

* * *

Oh, if only it were the swordsmanship.

As they returned to the arena, Laurent found himself without one of his worries, at least. If Damen did not remember much after the wine, it meant he may not have remembered where they had ended up, what Laurent had known to do for him. It may have been wishful thinking, but with it, Laurent could go through all the other problems they faced now.

People in the crowd tried not to stare outright as the Kings returned, hand and hand, and made their ways back to their thrones. Laurent scanned the crowd when he was sat, this time not attuned to what the crowd was saying, what they might have been thinking. His mind was focused elsewhere, still looking for a boy that was not there.

“The Veretians!” The herald called from his spot in the sand beneath them, arms outstretched towards the competitors’ entrance to the ring. It seemed, once more, Damen and Laurent had kept them waiting, but they had every right to do so.

The Veretian crowd, knowing what to expect in the ring during this sport, all began to prepare themselves for the show. The Akielons admittedly looked a touch more confused when, into the ring walked two men, both almost wearing the equivalent to their weight in gold paint. Laurent leaned back in his throne, side-eyeing Damen for only a moment before turning back to the ring.

Both servants - one with hair the colour of copper, and the other a brunet - bowed to the kings before taking their positions.

“Your men don’t look impressed,” Laurent commenter causally as they match began, the two pets doing their best to grapple one another, but Laurent knew they were putting on a show, and a ridiculous one at that. The noises of struggle, the pulled actions. Both these pets had clearly planned out their little show, and the victor had been decided. Laurent could tell it would be the brunet. The boy with the copper would please the Veretian crowd much more as the one to be mounted.

* * *

Damianos did his very best not to appear as annoyed as he felt when he watched the Veretians enter the ring. He remembered when he’d been made to do this and had nearly been raped by that /oaf/. The very thought made his blood boil. Worse, they had offered him a child as a prize. As though Damen were some insatiable animal that simply wanted to plunge his cock into whatever creature would allow him.

“Because this fight is clearly rehearsed, and they know little of proper wrestling,” Damen muttered. His soldiers looked uneasy, but slowly seemed to understand this was more of a show than a fight. They whispered amongst each other as the brunet started to gain the upper hand, and the sounds of the ring grew slightly more erotic.

Damen rested a casual fist against his mouth, watching as his soldiers slowly began to discover why the Veretians had been so confused by the Akielon way.

Things slowed in the ring as the wrestling turned more rhythmic and the bronze-haired boy began to resist less and grow into something more desperate. It was a good display of acting, even Damen had to admit he was invested as to how the brunet had claimed such a man, even though he knew it was all false.

Akielons began murmuring to each other, then the brunet spread the legs of the other man, though they did not sound as horrified as Damianos had anticipated. It seemed they were just as interested.

“Look at that,” Damen chuckled dryly. “My people will never fight the same way again."

* * *

“Don’t tell Nikandros,” Laurent replied just as dryly as the cry of the pet echoed throughout the hall. Laurent brought one of the mint leaves he had carried with him for Damen to his own lips, boredly chewing as the ‘fight’ played out before them.

A scan of the crowd showed the interest of most those in attendance. He did see a few Akielons more perplexed than anything, but thinking to scandalise an Akielon soldier was laughable. Not in this manner, anyway. Not with two beautiful men showing their best assets to the room while many an audience member found pleasure in both borrowed pets and their own.

Laurent was just grateful Damen could stomach this right now.

“Should we tell them there are still two more matches?” Laurent asked with a touch of humour, his eyes going out to all the Akielons seeking their pleasure merely in the first round. They’d be sorely amiss I’d they did not wait until the final match—

Cylan was gone.

Laurent found himself momentarily distracted, staring down at the spot where the Councilor once sat. Laurent bristled.

The match below ended with a mild applause from the Veretian audience. The owner of the pet stepped into the ring to gather the boy up, and Laurent barely noticed it, still staring at the empty seat.

Had it not been for the smallest stirring in the crowd, Laurent may not have even noticed the reset at all, nor would he have looked down in time to see the new competitors.

The first competitor was the pet who had attended them with their clothing this morning. He was barely decorated at all, merely wearing his silks, his hair done up in a little pin. He was older. Laurent could tell now, with the way the braziers lit his face. He was not /pretty/ as many pets were, but it became obvious he was not meant to the face of this battle.

Laurent would not have recognised Lucien if it were not for the glint of a dangling ruby in his ear. Aside from that, the boy looked unlike himself in so many ways - and it was purposeful.

Laurent’s reaction was small, but visible, which meant he did /not/ have full control over it.

Lucien’s long, beautiful hair had been shorn, short and curled and dark, uneven. He’d been fitted with slave bands on his ankles, his wrists, his /neck/. And his /back/—

It wasn’t as bad as Damen’s had been - no one was cruel enough to do that - but the boy had been unmistakably lashed, his back still red and healing, but hardly fatal. The whole image together made it very clear what was happening here, at least to those Veretians who /knew/.

To the Akielons, he may have just been a misfortunate pet. They had not seen Damen as he had been, did not know of the bands aside from the one he still wore on his wrist. Damen’s hair was longer now than it had been then, but it was an unmistakable jab.

Laurent, for the first time, did not know how to react.

* * *

Vere was lucky that Nikandros wasn’t present. He would have leapt to his feet and demanded the match be put to a stop. While Nikandros hadn’t seen Damen like this, he would know enough. Lucien had been a beautiful boy, but now he looked haggard. He looked drugged to Damen, and he had to think that was purposeful too. It was obvious he would not be able to defeat the other slave. One look at him and Damen had to wonder if he was a deserter or a criminal from Akielos—a double insult. But the other man looked far too big for Lucien to stand a chance.

Damen was not unaffected by the smell of mint on Laurent’s breath, but he could discard it. He needed to save Lucien. He would not allow this ghost of himself to meet the fate the Veretians had wanted him to. Lucien was not someone Damen necessarily enjoyed Laurent having interest in, but he didn’t care about that now.

“I won’t allow this,” Damen growled, furious. “I won’t allow it, Laurent.”

The pet from that morning began to circle Lucien, who could barely track him with how groggy he looked. Lucien didn’t look frightened, but Damen guess that was the drugs talking. It was like watching a lion circle a chicken. Lucien had no chance.

“We must end this,” Damen hissed. “Now."

* * *

Laurent heard virtually nothing of what Damen had to say. His entire being was focused on what he saw before him - not only the insult to Damen, but the cruel treatment of Lucien, and the call to his own wrongdoings. Laurent was furious, and were Councilor Cylan in that room, Laurent would have drawn the pin from the pet’s hair just to gouge his eyes out.

He rose from his seat as Damen gave the order to end this, already spurred by his own mindset and intent.

The carpet had not been rolled out to keep noble boots clean, and no servant could scramble quickly enough to do it.

Laurent, the king of Vere, stepped into the middle of the ring much to the confusion of /everyone/ around, his boots covered in oil and sand in seconds, and made his way straight for Lucien. In a panicked hurry, the herald called the fight to a stop, called for everyone to rise, but no one knew what to do, what to expect.

The larger pet let go of Lucien and dropped him from the grapple he’d only had him in for a moment, and Laurent moved to /kneel/ next to the poor boy.

Laurent’s face was thinly masked rage, his chest rose and fell with breathing he was trying to control. His hands found Lucien’s face, and he tried to catch the boy’s eyes, but they were blown and all but rolling about in his head.

This was too much.

“Your majesty—“ Councilor Jeurre called, scandalised, from the stands, as if calling Laurent’s attention might just lead him to change his mind and waltz back to his throne, but Laurent did not move. Lucien brought his hand up to hold Laurent’s wrists, clearly unaware of who was holding his face.

The crowd has gone completely silent, and that only added to the tension that had overtaken the room, seemingly radiating from the young king in the centre.

* * *

Damen stood with Laurent, but didn’t run down to the arena. He didn’t know Lucien well enough that he felt like he would be doing any help. But Laurent did—Laurent had cared for the boy, had a soft spot for him. It was no secret to Damen why he did, Laurent wanted to protect the boys from harm. That was why Damen had been caring for Korus in Ios, and likely why Laurent had taken one of Lucien’s earrings.

Laurent seldom showed softness, but there was something undeniably gentle in the way he held Lucien’s face. The innocence on Lucien’s features made Damen’s chest twinge with a need to protect him, and protect Laurent from the scrutiny.

“Elon,” Damen said, calling his soldier who had only just returned. Elon rushed to him, clearly overwhelmed by all of the events. If only Damen could promise Vere was always like this.

“I will wrestle the pet,” Damen announced as he approached the arena. He unpinned his cloak and removed his crown, handing both to Elon. It wasn’t all that unusual, though a king typically fought a champion, not a regular warrior. Veretians murmured, but the Akielons merely wondered what the larger pet must have done to catch Damianos’ eye.

It had been some time since Damen had been in the ring, but he knew he could easily dispatch this pet, even if he was Akielon.

“What better way to signify the unity of our cultures,” Damen said, trying to sound practiced. He had to make this quick, or he would be vomiting sooner than planned. He would remain in his sandals and chiton, and there would be no mounting after this fight.

He walked out into the ring, spreading his arms in greeting to his spectators. The Veretians were thrilled with the drama of the affair, and the Akielons loved a chance to see Damianos in action. This would be the talk of Arles for weeks, he was sure.

“Laurent,” Damen said as he approached. He nodded to the older pet, who, upon closer examination, looked frightened where he stood. “Take the pet to the leisure room.” he had to be careful to hide his fury, and not to direct it at innocent parties.

“You are Akielon,” Damen said to the other pet in his native tongue.

The boy averted his eyes. “Was. Yes, your majesty.”

Damen extended a hand. “Why are you here now?”

The boy hesitated, but took it and shook once. He had a fire in his eyes Damen liked. This boy was telling himself he may be able to win, despite it being hopeless. “I was bought and paid for,” the boy replied easily. “I am a good fighter. I train.”

“I can tell,” Damen said in rare praise. This boy was not their enemy. Damen leaned down to Laurent, speaking in his ear: “Take him out of here, with Elon. He will fetch Leopold and can escort Lucien to safety until our duties are finished. Move quickly. I won’t lose, but too long and I will make a fool of myself."

* * *

Laurent had not yet spoken. There was something pulled tight in him, ready to snap at any second. It was the most dangerous of his moods, a rage untamed and uninterrupted. Lucien, there, a forced mockery of Laurent’s betrothed, looked ready to pass out any second, and Laurent was /using/ it. He needed an answer - a solution. He would not let /anyone/ get away with this. This was no longer what Vere would be, he would /not/ allow it.

The crowd began to stir again - a rabble of excitement for the involvement of a king in the arena. It was a valiant effort at a distraction - one Laurent would be grateful for when he realised it had even happened. It did not pull focus right away, but as Damen prepped himself for the fight, it would. Laurent just kept his eyes level on Lucien, trying to find out /what/ was in him.

It wasn’t even until Damen said his name that Laurent looked up, still holding Lucien upright, not even attempting to control or change his expression.

Any softness in Laurent’s actions did not match the expression on his face, all sharp angles and hard lines, his brows knit, his jaw set tight. Laurent was making something of a spectacle of himself in a way he never would have allowed otherwise, but Damen was right. Laurent felt the obligation to protect these boys, to do what no one after Auguste’s death would do.

Laurent was still a boy - a young king at only twenty-one years of age. He had built himself in such a way though, that it was difficult to remember or even associate an age with him, much like a gender, or anything that rooted him to reality. Laurent, at the easiest, was just an /idea/— and no one knew what to think of him right now.

And Laurent didn’t care.

Damen would handle the crowd. When it came to likeable leaders, Damen was the actual king. He could fix this out here better than Laurent would be able to in his current state.

There was so much Laurent wanted to say to Damen - so many things he /should/ say - but he could only nod, not yet trusting his own tongue. He should have pointed out that Damen was ill, that he needn’t be wrestling with anyone. But instead, all Laurent could say was, “Watch for his hairpin.”

And he helped Lucien to his feet, ignored the mutters of their audience as he led the boy to the exit of the arena. Huet was there, waiting to escort Laurent, but that was hardly necessary. There were more important things to handle.

Like something very much akin to treason.

“Wake Jord,” Laurent ordered in a low voice, hoping Damen could hold most of the attention right now. “Gather your men and /find/ Councilor Cylan.”

Huet knew better than to argue this time.

“And my council does /not/ leave this arena until I summon them.”

“Yes, your majesty,” Huet bowed, giving the orders per the King.

* * *

This day was turning to a shitshow. Damen had planned for it not to go well, but this was something else entirely. Cylan would be punished for this, but Damen wasn’t sure why the man would go to such great lengths to insult them. He’d been with them in Marlas, so it wasn’t as if he’d had control of Arles while Laurent was away. But perhaps he had before, while Laurent was gone in Ios. Even so, it seemed like madness to Damen.

It was somehow fitting that Damianos was entering the ring to replace the weak, drugged boy who was supposed to be him when he had first arrived. Damen had shone strength there too, and threw all of Laurent’s plans to humiliate him aside. Here he would do the same. Lucien would be safe, Damen didn’t care what protocols he had to break.

He kept his clothing on for the fight, as it was supposed to be a Veretian match.

“I hope you understand there won’t be any mounting,” Damen chuckled. “And you know I can beat you easily. But we are here to put on a show.”

“I wouldn’t mind mounting you,” the boy replied with a sly grin. Cheeky bastard.

“Would you have mounted the boy?” Damen asked, circling as the crowd slowly began to tune in, the Veretians trying to make out Akielon words.

“He was a pet, I am a pet. Of course.”

Damen clucked his disapproval. “The fight was not fair.”

“And ours is?”

He’d definitely been in Vere awhile.

The boy launched from the dirt but to Damen it was like he was moving at half speed. He dodged the tackle, leaving a sandaled foot out that sent the boy to land on his face in the dirt. The crown laughed as the boy sputtered, dirt flying from his mouth.

“You can’t start an attack from so far away,” Damen instructed. “Or have you forgotten your training?"

* * *

Paschal has joined Laurent in the leisure room, stepping in just as Laurent was laying out his own cloak on the chaise for him to lay on. It seemed servants had been in to clean what mess had been left with the other pet, but the moment Lucien curled up in Laurent’s cloak, he knew it had been a good decision to leave it.

“These are effects I am familiar with,” Paschal informed to his king, “But there is nothing that can be done but give time. The fever will break, and he should not suffer long term damage.”

“/Should/ not,” Laurent repeated, sitting stoically by Lucien’s side on the chaise, sitting uncomfortably off the edge, but he did not move. He was watching Lucien’s face, looking for any signs of pain or panic in his otherwise dulled expression.

“It seems to have been a prodigious dose,” Paschal confessed, laying a wet cloth over the boy’s forehead.

There was ill-timed laughter from the arena, and Laurent could only hope it was not at Damen’s expense. He supposed he should be grateful that it was /laughter/, and not a gasp or anything similar to a war breaking out.

“Paschal,” Laurent said suddenly, quietly, /gravely/ as he swiped his hand over Lucien’s shorn hair. “You are not to treat Councilor Cylan tonight.”

The words were a heavy declaration, ones that gave Paschal pause.

“Your majesty, it is my duty—“ He tried for say, but Laurent rose his finger to silence the old man.

“Your duty is to my family,” Laurent corrected him, cold in a way he’d not been with Paschal much in his life, especially since Ios. “And your duty is to serve your king. You are /not/ to treat Councilor Cylan tonight. You will be too busy seeing to Lucien.”

Paschal lowered his head and, after a moment, he gave a nod.

“Your majesty,” he said in his agreement.

* * *

The boy was nervous, but he wasn’t a bad fighter. He fought like Laurent—no holds barred. He kicked, he punched, he jabbed. For the boy it was a fight for survival, and Damen saw that in his movements. He was afraid. Not of Damen, it seemed, but something was scaring him. So Damen dodged his attacks and took some head on, all while avoiding stains on his chiton.

But Damen was not completely well, even if he felt it at the beginning. His movements started to slow, and he started to notice each time his skin was touched, and where. He couldn’t be out here much longer, even if was fun to throw jabs.

He boy swung an elbow that slammed Damen in the stomach, but did little to fell him. Damen hooked an arm around the boy’s neck and dropped to the ground, twisting and arranging his arms to effectively pin the boy. He struggled violently, but it was no use, Damen had him pinned.

Akielons started to look angry when the boy didn’t tap out, though.

“Tap out,” Damen told him. “You fought well.”

He felt the boy tense, then relax as he tapped out. Damen released his hold and stood, offering his hand to the boy. It looked for a moment like the pet might go in for another hit, but instead he took Damen’s hand for a shake and bowed his head.

“It was my honor, Exalted.”

The crowd cheered, and one of the squires rushed out with Damen’s cloak and crown for him to redress.

“Mint leaves and bread, please,” Damen asked. “And water.” He dressed quickly before waving to the crowds, smiling wide. The crowd was excited at least, which mean Damen had some at least something to entertain them.

He needed to sit down though, because his heart was starting to beat in his ears and a familiar heat was starting to overwhelm him. So he headed for the throne, hoping it had been enough time for Laurent to do what he needed to.


	11. Part II: The Games (16.2.20)

There was a knock on the door the leisure room that Laurent vehemently denied entry to, but there was no pause in the opening of the door.

Jord strode in, having been called for, a small portion of the guard behind him, meeting Laurent as he stood, his anger quelled for the moment, as he /had/ sent for Jord.

“Lord Cylan has been brought back to the arena with the rest of your council,” he reported to Laurent, not asking any questions just yet. He’d been briefly informed of all that was happening by Huet, but nothing of substance had truly been offered. Not in his haste to follow through on his requested duties.

“Where was he?” asked Laurent.

“The gardens, sir,” Jord replied, “Showing an Akielon squire the winter blossoms.”

It was key information to give, for if Jord has only reported ‘with an Akielon squire,’ he knew how Laurent would have acted. Jord had been on Laurent’s guard for some time, and even though there were still moments where he hated Laurent, he knew how to best serve him.

“What of the arena?” Laurent asked, just as succinctly, his hand resting over the golden band at his wrist.

“King Damianos has just exited the ring,” Jord told Laurent, barring questions as to /why/ Damianos had been there in the first place. “Victorious. He has returned to his seat.”

“Who is with Cylan?” Laurent murmured, watching past Jord as the door to the leisure room opened, and an Akielon soldier stepped in. He met eyes with the King of Vere and instantly bowed low.

“Your highness,” he apologised, “I was sent by King—“

“Take what you need,” Laurent barked, his tone set, and his eyes on the man as he gathered mint leaves, bread, and then exited.

How many fires could Laurent be expected to put out in one day?

He turned his eyes back to Jord once the door closed, leaving him with his guard once more.

“Lazar and Pallas are both with him,” Jord assured his King.

Laurent remained silent for some time, his mind searching through a thousand different problems and solutions before he nodded, resolutely.

“Have Cylan’s physician called to his side,” Laurent said to Jord, “And /you/ stay here with the boy.”

Jord was a good man, a man who had proven himself time and time again to Laurent. He was a just man who had succeeded despite the constant Veretian pressure to be held down. He was loyal, even when Laurent would have expected him to have turned on him all that time ago.

Laurent noted that.

“I am to be notified immediately if anything happens with him,” Laurent called as he strode to the door, opening it for himself in a somehow graceful wrenching moment only he would ever be able to pull off, and he exited, crossing the stone hallway to enter once more into the arena.

His eyes levelled on Cylan, the older man looking properly overwrought. His face was red, he was all but wringing a handkerchief between his hands.

Laurent tilted his chin up and turned his gaze away, instead moving to the herald in the centre of the ring and murmuring something into his ear. The herald started, turned to the king, and when he was met with an icy glare, he bowed.

Laurent made his way to the spot next to Damianos and took his hand.

“We shall—“ The herald’s voice cracked as he composed himself. “End the Veretian styled wrestling here, and begin our move to the outdoor ring. Seats have been outfitted with furs and silks, but we would offer a halved hour for any other preparations you may need for the weather.” The crowd began to rise, the rustling of thick chiton fabrics, the jingling of pets’ jewels sounding as they moved from their master’s laps sounded through the hall, giving the herald a few vocal obstacles to work through.

“The King’s court as well as those nobles of Akielos have been asked to stay for a few moments more. The King of Vere promises you will be well-prepared for the cold in the time allotted.”

* * *

Damen returned to the thrones on his own, rather disappointed that Laurent hadn’t been able to see his fight, but it wasn’t as if it had been a good one to watch anyway. He sat, spying Lord Cylan had returned, with Pallas and Lazar flanking him. Damen frowned. Pallas had bee supposed to be resting, Lazar too. But at least they looked utterly annoyed, so Cylan would be getting no slack from them.

He wondered how it might be to want to be with someone a country away, yet tied to duty. Damen knew he was very lucky indeed, even in moments like…today. He had an equally powerful beloved, and they could upturn both of their kingdoms for each other if they wanted to. Nothing could keep them from each other if they made the decision to see one another, and no one could tell them to separate.

Lazar and Pallas had been apart for months, and Damen doubted Pallas had been able to see him longer than the few moments they’d had last night, and the few hours this morning.

He smiled softly as Laurent returned, but it fell away when he approached the herald instead of coming to his throne. The conversation wasn’t long, and Damen was chewing on a mint leaf when Laurent finally took his hand. He lifted Laurent’s knuckles to his lips and kissed them softly, squeezing his hand affectionately as he let them drop.

“They think we’re nobles?” one of the Akielon officers laughed at the herald’s decree. “My wife will love hearing about this when I return. Nobles!”

It went over well, but Damen was worried. They had time before the crowds left, and he knew Laurent was going to cut them down to size. But Akielons had never seen Laurent in a rage, and Damen wasn’t sure how they would react.

“Laurent,” he said gently, squeezing his hand to get his attention. “How is Lucien?” he paused, wanting Lauren to know his answer was important to him. “And what do you plan to do here? Remember I am with you always, but I cannot support you properly when I am in the dark."

* * *

“He’s not well,” Laurent responded to Damen, his voice thin, trying to find its way from between his grit teeth.

The arena was thinning out as the crowd filtered through the doors, a few patrons lingering, dallying, trying to get a taste of what would be happening between the two countries.

Laurent waited.

Damen seemed...fine for the moment, but Laurent knew he was working on pressed time. Not only did they have the deadline of the outdoor activities, but they had the deadline of needing to tend to Damen.

“Paschal is with him in the leisure room, along with Jord.”

But Damen was strong, would be able to take care of himself until Laurent could help him through the purging. Laurent had other ways he would help Damen that he seemed much more pressing. The fact that these other ways also helped Lucien and other causes he’d been discussing with his venomous court moved it to Laurent’s priority, as cold to his beloved as that may seem.

“Leave as you need to,” he told Damen, squeezing his hand once and pressing a kiss to it just before he rose from his seat. He motioned for the others to stay seated, and for a moment, Laurent seemed /calm/.

There was just nothing about him that said ‘friendly’ or ‘kind.’

He was straight-backed, cold-eyed, standing firm and tall. The Akielons /had/ never seen Laurent in a rage, no. But they would today.

“I would like to apologise,” Laurent began, addressing both sides of the room, his eyes unflinchingly meeting everyone he crossed. “We were unable to greet you in the Veretian way upon your entry of our gates last night. I apologise that we did not have the time to discuss preparations for this day together, and I apologise if we have offended any of you with out culture. It seems many of my councilmen were too busy with their own affairs regarding today’s events, and because of that, we were unable to come together as King Damianos and I would have preferred.”

Laurent heard someone from his side of the arena splutter.

“I apologise,” Laurent started again, his tone tight as he continued, “For the display you saw in one of our pets tonight. It was a mistreatment, and it was an impudence that I will not tolerate of my people. I am sure Damianos has shared his decrees on slavery with you all, and I would have you know that those expectations of change are something we will also uphold in Vere.”

“The pet,” Laurent continued, eyes levelled now on Cylan now, “Belonged to my own Councillor. A man who has been with my family since I was a no more than a thought in my mother’s head.” All eyes went to Cylan, flanked by his guards both Akielon and Veretian. He squirmed under the gaze.

“I will not accept such incivility in my kingdom.”

Laurent’s voice had gone sharp, his composure visceral. He was certainly making a reputation for himself with the Akielons.

“There will be a trial of punishment issued post-celebration in this hall for Lord Cylan. I welcome any arguments against it from either side. You are all my people now, and will be respected as such.”

“Your majesty!” Mathe called out, speaking for Cylan who had gone ashen.

“I will welcome those arguments in private,” Laurent amended, then he turned to Lazar, Pallas.

“Lock him away until this evening,” Laurent ordered with a wave of his hand as he moved back into his seat, one leg crossed casually over the other.

* * *

The worst part was that Damen knew there were countless other pets in Vere, and now in Akielos, that had it much worse than Lucien, but were never seen at court. Some pets were nothing but glorified whores, and paid worse. Youth was a desire in Vere, but thankfully Akielos at least preferred their salves to be of age in most cases. There were always those who felt differently, but in Akielos they were disliked, perverted. Sometimes that made things worse for the pet.

He wouldn’t leave, even as his heart rate refused to decrease and mints and water were doing nothing to quell his overheating. Leopold was likely waiting for him to return, especially now that he had surely heard that Damianos had gone into the ring. He was also aware that the leaving crowds would likely be fed with the story of Damen fucking a pet, so he was sure to get looks from all sides for the next events.

He would stand by Laurent for this.

Damen schooled his face as Laurent sank his fangs into his own council. The apology before it was most surprising to Damen, and made him unsure of how he should act. Of course he’d been displeased with the way he’d been greeted, but he knew it was a plan by Laurent.

The decision to lock Cylan away was not surprising, and Damen nodded his approval.

Akielons were clearly confused, so Damen cleared his throat even as his vision began to blur. He didn’t stand.

“Cylan’s pet was made to look as I did while Kastor enslaved me here under the Regent’s rule,” Damen explained. “The boy was lashed for no reason other than that his face resembled mine. It was a direct insult to me, and an insult to our decision to end slavery in Vere.”

Several Akielon soldiers stood up in anger, quite ready to run after Cylan and strike him down if ordered. Damen lifted a hand and shook his head.

“Cylan will be made an example of,” Damianos assured them. “Until then, we will continued to celebrate our arrival to Arles, and we are grateful to our gracious hosts."

* * *

When /Kastor/ enslaved him under the /Regent’s/ rule. What a lovely way to put it.

Laurent, somewhere in his chilly exterior, was embarrassed by how his kingdom must look to Akielos, but more than that, he was embarrassed that all they were preying on were his own wrongdoings. Luckily for Laurent, there was much too much happening for him to dwell on his feelings, but only because they were being dealt with.

“Our countries must move forward to thrive in this union,” Laurent supported Damen as the Akielons settled back into their seats. “I’ll stand for no one holding us in the past.”

It was a warning to his own council, but it extended to the Akielons as well. Laurent would not suffer for this any more. If he had to be a great and terrible king, he would be. He no longer had his petty squabbles with his uncle to cloud his mind and vision. Laurent now had a focus, and he would see that things were done /properly/. Even if he had to adopt Damen’s more straightforward way of doing things.

“We look forward to seeing you outside,” Laurent concluded, folding his hand over Damen’s, silently telling him to just hold on a few more seconds. Laurent would take care of him, now that he had taken care of /that/.

“Leave us.”

The majority of Laurent’s council could not even look at him. All except for Lady Vannes walked out at expedited paces, putting as much space as they could between themselves and their prince. And not /all/ of Laurent’s council was against him, but even those who had nothing to do with the dishonour of the union today knew better than to be caught by Laurent in this mood.

He waited until the arena was empty, until it was only him and Damen left, and Laurent /sagged/ in his chair, for a moment just letting himself breathe - a ragged, sharp thing of a breath.

He took a moment, his eyes moving to the side to watch Damen from where he had rested unroyally against his throne.

“You,” he said after a short moment. “Let’s go take care of you.”

* * *

Sweat was starting to break out on Damen’s forehead and chest, but it wasn’t easily visible in the low indoor light. The windows didn’t help much with how overcast it was, and for once in his life Damen looked forward to the cold so his body would properly regulate itself. At least this time the overheating was taking awhile to get to him, and the desire was a low, ignorable burning instead of a wildfire.

He squeezed Laurent’s hand when he sat back down, assuring him he had done well. It was a tricky situation—all of Akielos knew who had inflicted the scars that marred Damen’s back. Even slaves had given him knowing looks when he rarely caught their eyes. It was a permanent reminder that Laurent had once hated Damianos, and had once hated Akielos.

It was amazing to watch the facade of coldness fall from Laurent as he collapsed in his chair, but Damen was glad that Laurent was willing to show him the weight of his burdens. They could shoulder them together.

“We can sit a moment,” Damen assured him, a little slurred. It was nice, in a way, to have an area to themselves. Damen thumbed the side of Laurent’s palm, happy to just be there with him.

“Do not overthink my people,” Damen said a moment later—Laurent was always overthinking everything. “I brought an influential group, surely, but also one that can easily be swayed with good food and drink. Most of these men have never been treated like anything more than foot soldiers their entire lives. So long as they can fuck, drink, and eat, they will be raving of Vere for decades to come.”

Of course they were protective of Damen, but that did not mean they disliked Laurent.

“We will deal with your council, clean out the rot. Things will take their cour—“

His stomach twisted, and Damen sat up rather suddenly.

“We should continue this conversation after I have seen Leopold."

* * *

“Come, then,” said Laurent as he extended his hand to Damen. Leopold would meet them in the leisure room, where all of Laurent’s problems had seemingly decided to congregate. Or he had herded them there, he supposed.

They moved along the halls and back into the leisure room where things were, surprisingly, quiet.

Lucien had been put to sleep with a concoction of healing herbs, and Paschal sat by his side, changing out the cool clothes for the boy’s comfort. Jord still stood at the ready, hand on the hilt of his sword, even in the quiet. His posture was still that which Damen had taught the soldiers when he had been their Captain. Jord did not even have to adjust himself when the kings entered.

Leopold rose when Damen entered, a different receptacle in hand so as to not offend the Veretians as Damen’s last emergency choice may have.

“I will fetch water,” Laurent said to Damen, letting his hand slip from the small of his betrothed’s back when Leopold was there to take over.

Jord bowed his head as Laurent passed, but his eyes were on Damen, questioning.

“A brief illness,” Laurent explained, pouring the water into a goblet and crossing once more over to Damen to offer it. Jord had never seen Laurent attend /anyone/. It was jarring.

Paschal looked over knowingly, but said nothing. He understood Laurent’s choice to turn to the Akielon physician. He only hoped the man had been able to give the best treatment so far.

Laurent needed this quiet, needed to allow himself to think for a moment. Not of Cylan - that was handled for now - but of everything else surrounding this. The cleared out part of his brain allowed him to be reminded of the soreness he still had from last night, but it was a dull ache at most.

He wondered how that pet was coming along...

Any collapse or struggle Laurent had shown in those few precious moments with Damen were gone as he moved about the room, an efficient hand in /everyone’s/ recovery. Jord had heard of his care for Damianos in Ios after the trial, but he had thought, perhaps, Nikandros had merely been dragging him along, making a joke.

How foolish of him to believe Nikandros capable of joking.

* * *

Damen wasn’t so sick this time that he had to run to the receptacle Leopold had in his hand, but he was throwing up pretty quickly after it was given to him. The room was getting crowded, and Damen refused to be someone who needed Laurent’s attention, even if he did appreciate being cared for.

Leopold prepared another black drink while Damen spat out phlegm, and swished with water when Laurent brought it to him. Once his mouth felt reasonably clean, Leopold handed him a new drink. Damen drank it easier than he had last time, and then Leopold told him to eat, presenting bread and honey for him.

He thanked Leopold, and as he ate he moved over to Lucien, watching him for a moment. He hadn’t noticed that Laurent had left his cloak until he saw it wrapped around Lucien. It was hard to believe Lucien had incited jealousy in Damen back at Marlas—he looked so young now. He wasn’t, but againt, youth was valued in Arles far more than it was in Marlas.

Damen found his way to Laurent’s side and pressed a kiss to Laurent’s temple. He plucked some honeyed bread and offered a piece to Laurent. “Eat,” he instructed quietly. “In fact—Leopold, can you fetch the servant who brought this bread?”

The servant appeared not long after.

“Bring us something warm. Soup, perhaps,” Damen commanded. “Something that pleases the King of Vere.”

The servant scurried out the way he came, and Damen offered Lauren another piece of bread.

“You have yet to eat,” Damen reminded him. “I will not have you fall ill too."

* * *

Laurent got to a place where there was nothing more he could do, so he just sat on one of the lounges, watching the little activity around him. Damen had finished vomiting and was being cared for by Leopold, Paschal had reclined in his seat while Lucien slept, and Jord was still standing there, waiting.

He rose to meet his beloved when Damen approached him, as was to be expected - an act of respect made for the eyes of those in the room. But everyone had stopped watching them - Jord too busy with the door, Paschal and, now, Leopold looking over Lucien. Laurent would not fall into the illusion of privacy however. He knew better than to do that.

“I eat daily,” Laurent assures Damen, but when the bread was offered, he wasted no time in leaning forward just to take it between his teeth, eat it that way. He could not even be bothered to unfold his arms to do so. “I will not become ill from one day of mismanaging my meals.”

Laurent hoped there were no other days where he was /able/ to mismanage his meals.

Despite what people thought of his routine, Laurent always took care of himself. Sickness was a hindrance, and he could never let his body fall into a place where he was not prepared for /anything/ that could be thrown at him. It had just been a particularly heavy-hitting day, and with his other half out of commission, Laurent had to fall into old ways of handling things. Alone. He would have eaten either during or after the punishment he had scheduled for this evening.

But soup sounded nice.

“How are you feeling?” Laurent asked after swallowing the third bit of bread Damen had to offer him. “Do you require privacy?”

* * *

Damen rolled his eyes. Laurent did not eat enough, even if he thought consuming food was something to be praised. He was a young man who trained almost daily, and he was still growing. Damen had seen it most last night when Laurent first strode into the grand hall—he was still getting prettier by the day, his jawline sharper, his shoulders more muscled. What a prize he was.

He was happy to feed Laurent with his fingers, reminded of simpler times. Worse times, but simpler.

“Is that an invitation?” Damen purred, resting their foreheads together. The truth was he ached for touch, but it was controllable now. He could subdue it for the rest of the day if needed and required no pet to empty himself into.

The soup arrived, placed on a small table that had been moved aside in all of the commotion. Damen waved the servant off as he tried to adjust the table, thanking him for his swift service. He guided Laurent with a gentle hand on the small of his back and moved his own chair so he was directly beside Laurent, not across from him.

The soup was thick with winter vegetables and chunks of meat and smelled wonderful, even if Damen wasn’t permitted to eat it. Evidently Leopold had said as much, because only one bowl had been brought.

“How are /you/ feeling?” Damen asked, placing a hand on Laurent’s knee and rubbing there. “I am no longer incapacitated as I was, and it is time I helped, my love."

* * *

It had not necessarily been an invitation from Laurent, but he would have found someone to take care of Damen as necessary. He didn’t say anything else about it, just let out a little hum to imitate laughter, as he did not want to set anything else off balance today. If Damen was fine and joking, he was well enough to be knocked off the list of imminent worry and danger.

Damen looked only so much better as the drug burned through him. His cheeks were still ruddy, his hair stiff with dried sweat at his forehead. His dark eyes were still uncomfortably blown, and the vomiting had left him a touch gaunt with dehydration.

“Being him water,” Laurent called our to whoever would take his orders right now.

It was Leopold.

Laurent was /exhausted/, but he was upright, sitting straight-backed and strong, still as focused as ever.

“I will be even better after I’ve dealt with Cylan,” Laurent replied honestly while also avoiding the question altogether. If he honestly thought about his own feelings, he’d only tire himself further, and that would only make this day more difficult for the both of them.

The drug, the comments, the lies, the plots, /Lucien/.

Laurent wondered if what had happened to Lucien was partially his fault, but he knew a moment later that it was every bit of his fault. He’d left him when he shouldn’t have, pulled him into a plot and then found himself distracted by Damianos. He let him down, and in turn, he’d let Damen down.

He supposed he was lucky they were both still breathing, and not just heads rolling in the dirt.

Laurent took a bite of his soup, the warmth welcomed in him, especially with how cold thinking about what had happened made him.

“He will suffer for what he did to you,” Laurent took the time to tell Damen now, his voice calm, the statement direct, but Laurent couldn’t even look at him, instead focusing on his soup. He needed to eat so that he may /stay/ upright and strong, so he could remain a formidable present, a cold but just king.

He longed for a trip to Sicyan, back to the beautiful palace by the sea, back to something simpler. Laurent did have frivolous wants after all, but he did so seldomly express them, and even more rarely, receive them. He wanted to get away from Arles for just a few days, make this right for Damen so he didn’t leave, didn’t change his mind about this union, didn’t leave Laurent alon—

Laurent bit into another spoonful of soup, clearing his thoughts of any of that.

“I would ask you not to be present, but you are inexorable, so I will not bother myself with asking twice.”

* * *

Damen had been around Laurent under stress before, and he knew how he tended to become. Laurent was used to handling things on his own, taking care of problems by his own hand. Damen trusted Laurent, but it was something that could be an issue with their union in the future. They had to rule together, they couldn’t hide things like plans for punishments.

He took the water when it was brought, staying quiet to allow Laurent to eat his soup. Damen had only been there for one day, and Laurent had endured this for months. It couldn’t be good for him, nor healthy. Damen just wanted to shield him from all of the stress, hold him in his arms until it all went away.

Instead, they had to talk of disposing Cylan.

“I would like to be involved in his punishment,” Damen said around a sip of water. “I would prefer to inflict it personally, but I don’t want Veretians thinking I take pleasure in revenge.” He pursed his lips a moment.

“I would like to announce his punishment, then. You can enact it."

* * *

“So hands-on,” Laurent murmured before taking another bite of soup, having to push his hair back to keep from dipping into the bowl. He would need to see to getting it cut before the wedding. He placed it on his mental list, close to the bottom with no interest of thinking about it again until this day was over with. He did not have time for such frivolous thoughts.

“I would not have you any more part of this than you have already been,” Laurent conceded to Damen, speaking quietly now, a murmur at most. The only cover they had for their voices were the sounds of the crackling braziers that lined the walls.

“The punishment will be his to choose based off is his crime, and I—“

Laurent set down his spoon and, in a slow but decisive movement, he took Damen’s hand between his own, uncaring of those eyes that might fall on him.

“I ask that you trust me and you support me in this, Damianos. /I/ need to handle this. It is not yet your decision to make.”

* * *

It was rare that Laurent showed affection to him so openly. Damen wanted to do his part to encourage it, because he felt Akielos would benefit in seeing Laurent as Damen did. His kindness and fairness, his honor. Damen declaration at the trial with Kastor still stuck in the mind of many Akielons, and many only had that speech to go on. Laurent held his hand in public, but seldom showed warmth until the doors were closed.

But there Laurent was, his hands clasped over Damen’s.

“I do trust and support you,” Damen assured him in the same quiet murmur. “But I am also king. Cylan has directly disrespected me in front of both of our kingdoms. If I were not in my present condition I would not have delayed a trial, and he would be put to death.” Truly, Damen didn’t even know why he had been so placid about it all. It was a direct attack, the Veretian version of a sword drawn.

“I understand that I am not yet in charge of your kingdom,” he continued, his other hand folding over one of Laurent’s and thumbing the back of his palm. “But if I were not your betrothed you would not ask me o stay out of it, nor would you hide your intentions with his punishment.”

He leaned forward, pressing a lingering kiss to Laurent’s forehead in support.

“I am yours, but I must also be a king. Allow me to be both."

* * *

It shouldn’t surprise Laurent anymore when Damen directly foiled his plans, undid him with honesty and understanding, but it did. It /unnerved/ Laurent. When he had first met Damen, face to face, he truly had thought him an oaf, a boar, and a beast. He had learned much about Damen since then - from his keen mind to the dimples when he smiled - but Laurent still had to adjust to Damen’s ability to deal with him.

It left him still for a moment, thinking over his options, convincing himself that Damen was /right/. Laurent could give over part of this control to his king, he could. But it was /so/ difficult.

He looked a little more than trapped when he spoke next, but it was right that he did speak. It was and he /knew/ that.

He just hated it.

“He will not be put to death, unless he chooses it,” said Laurent, right into his usual act of a proper courtier. There was a disconnect in sharing this power, but he /was/ sharing.

“He will be castrated before the court.” Laurent said it casually, the decision already made in his head. “He will choose that over death, and I will allow it. I can wrangle his mind, but it is his pride that must go.”

“My court will have too many arguments of intention and perception, so for the time being, I can only try him for the mistreatment of the boy, and the humiliation tactic against you. This punishment will suffice.”

Laurent pulled his hands from Damen’s, using them to straighten his jacket as he stood.

“A quick death is not a punishment,” he said as he adjusted his crown and, with finality, held out his hand to Damen.

They still had a celebration to attend.

* * *

Castrated. Damen’s brow twitched at Laurent’s choice, but he didn’t disagree. Castration would do well to permanently humiliate Cylan in the entire kingdom, and Akielons would see it as a fitting sentence. Damen would rather prefer Mathe be castrated so he wouldn’t be able to stick his cock into any more children.

As usual, Laurent was one step ahead in navigating the intricacies of his court. The Akielons would remain silent so long as Damen did—they would never demand something of a Veretian without the king expressing the demand first. They would look to Damen for how to handle the situation and he had to respond in support of Laurent.

He stood with Laurent, cocking a brow.

“I never said it would be quick,” Damen said evenly. “You have never seen me punish someone as king, have you?” He knew the answer. Kyroi dealt most of the punishment in Akielos, and Damen had dispatched his brother’s supporters immediately upon taking the throne. No one had been bold enough to cross him in his own kingdom. Cylan just wasn’t smart.

After a last check to Lucien, they walked from the leisure room hand in hand. Damen braced himself for the cold as they stepped outside, but enough braziers had been places to keep him from freezing on the walk up to the stands.

“Elon,” Damianos called as they approached the thrones. “Find one of King Laurent’s attendants, fetch him another cloak.”

He squeezed Laurent’s hand, keeping close to him until they both had to take their seats.

“Any swordsmen I would be impressed with?” Damen asked once he had a mint leaf in his mouth. “Or am I to only have you for company in the ring?"

* * *

Laurent had never seen Damen really punish anyone for anything at any point in their brief lives together. He had, admittedly, punched Laurent twice in their time together as punishment for his arrogance and his mouth, but that was the extent of it. He’d not even punished the legacy of the man that sold him to Vere, stole his beloved, killed his father, and usurped the throne.

Laurent supposed he still /did/ have things to learn about Damen.

It warmed him the /slightest/ bit.

In the ring, the swordsmen were doing their final bit of practice and training. The Veretians were showing off with flairs of balancing acts and lunged thrusts, but the Akielons were not exactly focused on just training either. Not until the kings were present, and then all acts cleaned up immediately.

The snow only kissed the surfaces of man and structure before melting away, the ground not yet cold enough to allow it to stick, but Laurent could see many of the Akielons wrapped in their furs, their breath clouding the sky. Laurent himself had only just received his cloak, and he did not even wrap it around his shoulders.

“Baran is quite good,” Laurent responded to Damen’s inquiry, pointing down at a young man of the aristocracy, his clothes fine and restrictive as any other Veretians. “His father fought alongside Auguste at Marlas on the front. He uses his father’s sword to this day.” And then, Laurent added, “I do not suggest you duel him.”

He would be one that was none too fond of this union, but he was harmless.

“Lady Vannes’ late brother’s son,” Laurent pointed out another of the men below. “He’s terrible, but fun to watch. And—“ Laurent scanned the men, finally pointing out the last he felt need to draw attention to.

This man, younger than Damen but older than Laurent, was sat on a bench, his sword sat next to him. His large hands were crossed over his body, his dark eyes almost hidden by his heavy brow as he scanned the others, /watched/ them prepare without so much as shining his blade.

“One of Govart’s many bastards,” Laurent explained, as if the likeness were not spot on. “He’s very talented with a blade, but I’m afraid he is not better than I.”

“My company is yours anytime you desire it for a rematch,” Laurent told Damen, but as he said it, he stood, leaving his cloak in his seat. “But it will have to wait. I’ve promised myself to another for this match.”

* * *

Damianos was not very impressed with any of the swordsmen Laurent pointed out, sharing hsi opinions on them all. Baran caught his interest, and he wondered how Baran thought of Laurent now that he was marrying the Princekiller. He wondered if Baran had been a friend of Laurent’s before he had turned cold. Before the regent had destroyed a happy boy and made him into something…else.

He only needed to watch Lady Vannes’ fighter to see he was horrible with a blade, then his eyes settled firmly on Govart’s son. Damen’s eyes reflexively narrowed as he recognized the brutish features on the boy. He seemed to carry his father’s arrogance too, though Damen realized he might act the same. He had no reason to assume Govart’s son would be like his father, though instinct told him so.

Would others assume the same of Cosmas?

Damen stood with Laurent, confused. “Am I to know the one who steals my king from me?” he asked, plucking Laurent’s cloak right from his seat and pulling it over his shoulders while preventing his escape for a moment longer.

“If you expect me not to worry myself into greater sickness, keep that on. I /will/ interrupt your courting session to do so if you take it off again.”

He smiled, wide and genuine and tired. Today had been a long one, and they had so much more to do.

“I would ask for a kiss in parting, but I’m not even sure /I/ would kiss me in my current state.”

So he stepped aside to let Laurent pass, his smile softer now, but just as affectionate.

* * *

Laurent stood unmoving as Damen blocked his path, leaving them both standing almost uncomfortably close for those who took the time to watch their kings. At this distance, Laurent had to look /up/ to properly see Damianos, and though he was physically smaller, it never made him feel like less of a man when it came to Damen.

“One of your own men,” Laurent informed Damen as he rolled his eyes, accepting them cloak as it was pulled around his shoulders.

“I can’t fight in this, you know,” he added, rolling his shoulders and looking back up at Damen. “You would have me embarrass myself in front of your people.”

But he would wear it until he was far enough away for Damen not to reach his shoulders.

“You stay here and chew on your mint leaves,” said Laurent in passing, for as much as he loved Damen, he would rather not the taste of sick in his mouth that was not his own.

From there, he descended towards the ring, trading the cloak for his sheathed sword with the servant at the bottom. A murmur broke into the crowd as Laurent crossed the sand to none other than Aktis. The man had never been quite taken with the outcome of okton, and Laurent had promised him a rematch to the sport of his choosing.

The poor man had chosen swordsmanship after hearing that any sport that put Laurent on a horse would not end in his opponent’s victory.

While Laurent and Aktis spoke off the field, Lady Vannes slipped into the seat just to the side of Damen’s throne, leaning towards him. She was a bold woman, but so was anyone who thought they were on Laurent of Vere’s good side.

“He is quite.../happy/ around you, isn’t he?” she asked, smirking as she stared up at Damen. They’d gotten off on many wrong feet since their first meeting, and now seemed like as god a time as ever to rectify that - especially with this trial just around the corner.

* * *

Now Damen was intrigued. Laurent was going to fight one of his own men. He would have guessed Pallas, but instead it was Aktis entering the arena. He was a boy who had benefitted from the way Akielos governed—he was a superb fighter who had started out as a stableboy. Now he was well decorated and one of Damen’s best men, and a representative Damianos was proud of.

Lineage was important, Damen would never change his mind about that, but positions of power didn’t need to be dictated it outside of the monarchy. he watched as Laurent shed his cloak at the earliest moment, but it only made Damen smile. He had been right, he couldn’t fight in a cloack. Damen could, though, he though with a widening grin.

Once again he thought of their union, of what would happen to their lineage. It was something that would become a conflict between them, he knew. Laurent wanted his bloodline dead, but Damen didn’t want his gone. He wanted a child, an heir to raise as his own son, to shower with affection and to care for as he had to retrain himself from doing with Cosmas.

He had seen that with Jokaste. She was a good mother to Cosmas and cared for him lovingly. But he had nothing close to affection for her now, only deep pain and anger.

Laurent could be a wonderful father. He was young now, but when they were both older, settled into their union and kingdoms. He could love a child unconditionally, as he cared for Lucien, Korus, and others.

Damen was pulled from his thoughts by Lady Vannes, and carefully moved to shift away from her so she wouldn’t be able to see his still-sickly appearance. He pretended it was so he could grab his water and another mint leaf.

“He tolerates me,” Damen said evenly. Then, more seriously, “He cares for me very much, and I him. I should hope I make him happy.”

He didn’t trust this woman one bit. Laurent didn’t seem to openly hate her, but he had not ever asked for her company (not that he really could) or told Damen anything about trusting her. He would err on the side of caution.

* * *

“Tolerates,” Vannes chuckled, leaning back into her seat comfortably in a way very similar to Laurent’s usual posture. “I have seen him /tolerate/, and that is /not/ what he does with you. You have seen him in a way no one has since he was young. It’s quite perplexing.”

Laurent and Vannes’ relationship was complicated. She had served both Aleron and the Regent, and now, with Laurent. It was clear she did not maintain her alliance and her seat in the court based off the current leader’s beliefs.

“They say - /they/ being Mathe and Jeurre and Cylan, so you know - that he has an obsession with powerful men. That it clouds his mind and makes him think with a head that does not work, and /that/ is why he is such a terror,” Lady Vannes continued as the crowd continued their idle conversations. On the field below, Laurent had passed his sword to Aktis to examine while Laurent held his opponent’s sword, seemingly just waiting for Aktis to finish his examination.

“The rumours of him and his brother are still widespread, as I’m sure you’ve encountered,” she added, and she raised her hand in the hair with a flick of her fingers, motioning for a drink to be brought her way. “They aren’t true, of course, but this kingdom does /love/ its gossip.”

The herald below had stepped onto the field, announcing the beginning of the competition below. The crowd clapped as the training men cleared the sawdust, as the king of Vere stepped into the ring with an Akielon in tow, his own sword drawn and back in his own hand. He held it casually at his side, watching as Aktis began the process of removing his chiton.

“I’ll not be joining you,” Laurent said to Aktis in Akielon, and a few of those in the front row that understood the language actually got a chuckle out of the comment.

“Then you will never hold victory,” Aktis replied confidently, and Laurent had to admire that.

“Would you like for me to share with you that which is being said now?” Vannes asked, paying no mind to the match beginning below - she already knew the Akielon stood not chance against the king of Vere. “Without my dear girl, I’ve found myself with all the spare time to do so, your majesty.”

* * *

Damen sat back in his throne, thankful that he’d taken that second drink of black liquid. His head was starting to hurt, and a pressure was building at the bridge of his nose, but for now he could ignore it. He had a feeling it would get worse before it got better, and he only hoped Leopold could provide him something to get him through the trial and the ridiculous meal they had planned. He longed for Laurent’s bed, wrapped in plush pillows and warm blankets. And Laurent, always Laurent.

He listened passively as Lady Vannes spoke, though mention of incest made his lip curl in a reflexive snarl. Veretians seemed to have no regard for strong families unless that tie was made of money or jewels. Auguste had been a shining light in this place of darkness, and Damianos wished he had been able to see it before they went to war. Something could have been different.

“I imagine your reasoning for approaching me was to tell me exactly that,” Damen muttered, but he was curious despite himself. Even if whatever she said was probably a lie.

Aktis was going to lose, but he would give Laurent a challenging fight. His gaze wandered over Laurent, the way he moved and kept his head high as though being faced with a piece of legislation and not a sword.

“You know,” Damen said distractedly. “If there weren’t so many backstabbings and falsities among those who are supposed to support the king, you may see more of the Laurent you claim is so rare. He is not this way in Akielos. Same cutting tongue, but not so cold."

* * *

“You’re very good at this,” Vannes grinned when Damen gave his reply, “But you need not worry about me. My schemes are not like those of men. I owe you a debt, so consider me your confidante until that debt is repaid.”

Vannes had been party to many of the terrible things that happened to Damen during his time as a slave here in Vere. Laurent had come back from Akielos with a crown behind his attitude, and Vannes was not about to be punished for merely having a good time. She had no ill will against the Akielon King, and certainly not against her own. He had always gotten on well with her.

Below in the ring, Laurent was giving Aktis a good bit of a runaround, not at all the efficient fight that was to be expected of Laurent. He was burning energy, missing out on plenty of opportunities to end the match and best Aktis, just for the excuse to keep moving. The crowd seemed to be enjoying it - the Akielons because it seemed their soldier was actually an equal to Laurent, and the Veretians because they knew he wasn’t.

But Laurent didn’t make it seem like a show. He played into his mistakes, even let Aktis’ blade sheer his jacket once, really giving the drama to the crowd.

Laurent was doing this to burn off energy - nerves, anger, rage. He was calming himself through sport, and everyone was benefitting from it.

“They say you must be the best fuck in kingdoms to have him in your bed,” Vannes said to Damen as the fight continued. “To make him smile...” She was gauging Damen’s face as she spoke, trying to pick out what was truth and what was merely rumour.

“I’m sure you have a quite the trouble getting inside of him, though,” She went on, and she truly had no duplicitous motive behind this. Her pet was gone, locked away in her room, and she had no entertainment. She thought Damen - like any man - would be excited to talk about his conquests over Laurent. As much as she was excited to hear them. “You are so /much/ man...with a story very few others get to tell.”

“Is it that he as more time with you in Akielos?“ She asked further, as the crowd erupted into applause as Laurent, finally, held the point of his blade to Aktis’ chest, Aktis’ on blade under the toe of Laurent’s boot.

* * *

Damen didn’t believe a word of Lady Vannes feeling indebted to him. He knew full well she had been part of his enslavement, and had thought him a fine toy for Laurent to play with while the Regents dug his claws into the kingdom. Worse, she had always seemed the type who wanted to see Laurent bitten by his feral pet, though Damen supposed he could understand that sentiment. Laurent could be a right ass when he wanted to be.

Like as he ran around the ring feigning that he was being tested. Atkis had to realize what was happening, but he was not too proud a man to try to use it to his advantage. Damen admired that in him.

“If it had to do with skill alone, Lady Vannes, I would have been in his bed the night I arrived,” Damen replied with a snort. He did believe himself to be one of the best fucks in the kingdom, even if Laurent didn’t see it that way. Laurent, as he had shown today with that pet, didn’t seem to see sex as anything more important than clothing or good penmanship.

He bit back a sharp reprimand as she went on to talk in such lewd way about her /king/ but had to remind himself that this was Vere.

“We don’t speak of such things in Akielos,” he replied quickly, trying not to think about how he was indeed a tight fit, how Laurent always made lovely sounds whenever he did sheath himself inside—

Damen grinned as Laurent won, but had to balance the victory of his betrothed with the loss of his own countryman. He clapped, nodding to Laurent and smiling as Atkis stood, brushing the sawdust from himself and extending a hand to Laurent in good faith. He hadn’t missed Lady Vanne’s final question, but he wasn’t sure how to tell her that he doubted there was a correlation. Here in Arles it felt as though Damen was far from seeing the laughing, caring Laurent he had come to know in Akielos.

Laurent wouldn’t want him saying anything about how he was in private, of that Damen was sure.

“I am secondary,” Damen told her as he continued to clap. “The kingdom, his duty, and the security of his people will always come first. I was raised this way, but it was thrust upon him. It changes men. It did Kastor when his crown was taken at my birth, and Laurent when his was given unexpectedly.”

He wanted to quash the notion that Laurent would ever be distracted by him, or swayed.

“Laurent loves me,” he said as clapping subsided. “But I can assure you the majority of our conversations—in public as well as private—concern the kingdom’s welfare alone.”

It wasn’t a lie. Perhaps Damen wished it was, but with the union upcoming and the current state of affairs, they would be neglecting duty not to talk about it at every moment.

* * *

“Sounds very boring,” Lady Vannes crowned in response, her eyes travelling down to where Laurent was being pinned back into his cloak. He handed over his sheathed sword with some inaudible comment before turning to Atkis and extending his fine hand. They shook, and Atkis bowed his head. He would not hear the end of it tonight, but it seemed to be a fight fought and lost in good faith.

“He was never meant to have the throne,” she continued as Laurent made his way back up the stairs, drawing dangerously near. “It will be too much for him, but I do believe - despite what the others think - that you will be good for him and this country.”

Laurent’s eyes locked on Vannes’, his eyebrow raising as he saw what she was doing from afar. Before he finally closed the gap, she added:

“So long as he keeps you around.”

“Lady Vannes,” Laurent greeted as he took his seat in his own throne, glancing at her from across Damen. “Has the King is Akielon not been accosted enough today?”

“I was merely sharing with him the gossip of Arles,” she dismissed. “Who else was I to share it with? You took my girl from me.”

“She will be in your bed when you return,” Laurent said in the same dismissive tone.

“After your /trial/?” She asked, a complaint in her tone. “I completely support the notion,” she added quickly, “I only hope it is swift. I do so hate a celebration where I cannot properly celebrate.”

Laurent rolled his eyes and sat back in his seat, taking Damen’s hand - as seemed to be protocol now - and instead, turned his attention to him, promptly ending his discussion with Lady Vannes.

He had the smallest sheen of sweat over his body.

“Your man fought valiantly,” Laurent informed Damen, as if a status report had been requested. “His parries are dismissive and have no support. He will need to strengthen his defense as he has his offense.”

* * *

Damen was ready to fight when Lady Vannes /dared/ to say the throne would be too much for Laurent. Laurent could rule better than most kings Damen had ever heard of, and he had wonderful examples in Auguste during his formative years. The Regent had been a terrible man, and Laurent would rule better than him a thousand times over. She must have seen the look on his face, because she then proceeded to turn it into a compliment for himself.

But her final comment struck him again. Damen’s eyes narrowed, and he arranged himself to have a proper Veretian fight in hushed voices when Laurent appeared. Keeps him around? Laurent loved him. There was no chance in hell that he was going anywhere.

He was too furious to listen to what was being said, and figured it wasn’t actually anything important. Laurent taking his hand was calming, and Damen looked over to him, softening completely.

Laurent had actually broken a sweat. In all of that cumbersome clothing, where amen was used to seeing that sweat on him in a different way, sprawled out and gasping in firelight, or pink with heat in the silk pillows of their balcony in Marlas.

Needless to say, he didn’t hear much of what Laurent was talking about.

Damen leaned over before Laurent had even finished speaking and kissed him on the lips. He didn’t linger, but he did like the noises of surprise from the crowd at his display.

“My man won,” Damen corrected as he pulled away. “But I will tell Aktis you have much to say about /his/ improvement.” Not that Damen had heard any of it.

* * *

The kiss honestly surprised Laurent for a second, which many of their onlookers seemed to find amusing. He’d not expected to be cut off in such a way, and even in his current state of mind, if didn’t anger him, which perhaps just as many onlookers expected.

“Behave,” Laurent warned lowly, but there was a lightness to the warning that cut through any expectations of anger or embarrassment. He turned from Damen, eyeing him for just a moment longer before turning back to the actual entertainment before them.

As the celebration progressed, two Akielons and three Veretians took victories in swordsmanship, though the win of Govart’s bastard was highly disputed and had to be ultimately decided by the Kings. Laurent would have deferred it to Damen, but it was easier to have right decided over a quick wrestling match, as all sword man should be well-rounded fighters.

Govart’s son, having been expected to fight like an upstanding Veretian, pinned the Akielon in mere moments, and the victor was decided.

Next came the races through a highly obstacled arena. /This/ was the sport Laurent would have loved to participate in, but he’d made a few decisions last night that made horse riding not an option. Ven would probably prefer the warmth of her stall in weather like this anyway.

That’s what Laurent told himself anyway.

“Full pelt, right out of the gate,” Laurent quietly chastised one of his own riders from his throne, itching to correct his decision. “The first turn will put him out of the race. Imbecile...”

* * *

Damen grinned when Laurent told him to behave, and actually let out a laugh. He kept in good spirits for the rest of the fighting, holding Laurent’s hand and commenting on fighters. he drank lots of water and had to relieve himself many times, and ate copious amounts of bread and mint leaves. It became harder to focus as the night wore on, but not because his desire had grown.

By the time the races has started, Damen was not in good order. He could still smile and pay attention, but his body was weakening rapidly. His memory of the day was getting fuzzier each time he tried to recall something, and a weight started gathering in his bones. Last time he’d tested this drug he’d had lots of sex and fell asleep peacefully. Time hadn’t mattered then.

Now he’d…pleasured himself with a pet, and had a stomach full of water and bread. His mouth tasted of mint leaves and it was becoming harder and harder to put more in his mouth, even though it was necessary.

“He could make due,” Damen murmured. “That horse looks stockier than the rest, perhaps good for quick turns and obstacles, though not as fast in the straight.”

It was odd; his eyes were wide awake, but his body was so tired.

The pack rounded the first turn, and Damen could no longer stay silent.

“Laurent,” he whispered, keeping an eye on the back of the pack as a rider had to pull up abruptly, his horse nearly colliding with another. “Will there be an intermission after the race?” he asked. “I’m not…I need to rest.”

He seldom ever admitted it, and if they were at war he wouldn’t at all, but he was not feeling well, and his body ached in a strange way.

“If not, I think I should excuse myself before the race is over to rejoin for the banquet."

* * *

Laurent was /very/ focused on the race before them, actually focused on something that wasn’t this catastrophe of a day. He had his fingers to his lips as if in contemplation of the handling of the horses, the decisions being made in the race, and if Laurent had been a betting man, he could have easily called that this race would go to an Akielon. Specifically the one on the grey, dappled gelding.

He was just about to be proven correct when Damen called his attention.

Laurent turned then, gave Damen a once over and shifted his focus right then and there. He waved over one of his own and told them to fetch Leopold. There would be one other race before the banquet, and Laurent did not want Damen waiting through it. They had stayed for the majority of the tournament, had even participated. Who would tell them they had to stay longer?

“Let us lay you down, then,” Laurent murmured as the victorious Akielon dismounted his horse, hands raised in his celebration of his win. Even the Veretians clapped and showed their support.

For as much that had happened to them today, it seemed Laurent’s court has focused their energies in the wrong direction. While they fretted over Damen and Laurent, Vere and Akielos were uniting all on their own. A banquet, followed by a punishment they both benefitted from would only solidify that union.

“Leopold,” said Laurent as the physician made his way to Damen’s side. “Take him to our chambers. Have him rest. I will be with him shortly.”

* * *

Damen didn’t protest as Leopold approached, though he would have preferred a less obvious exit. He squeezed Laurent’s hand and gave him a kiss on the head before departing. He stopped by the winner’s circle to personally congratulate the winner and his steed, as he deserved. Veretians and Akielons alike gathered around to marvel at man and steed, and few noticed when Damen slipped away.

He was shaking by the time he reached Laurent’s chambers, but took off his cloak and sandals before crawling into bed.

“You have a fever,” Leopold told him a few minutes later as he started boiling water for tea over the fire. “I’m not sure it will be broken by the banquet. I suggest you rest, then I will wake you to bathe.”

Damen was barely conscious when Leopold offered him tea, despite how awake he’d felt with Laurent.

“This is good,” Leopold informed him. “It means the drug is leaving your system. Drink this before you sleep, Exalted. It will help things progress faster.”

Damen forced himself to down the rest of the tea. He knew he was overheated, but he felt colder and colder by the minute. What he wouldn’t give to lie in the hot sun on the beaches, to bake in the heat again. Instead he was underneath blankets not warm enough, surrounded by braziers and a fire that seemed to have no heat at all.

He parted his lips to say something, but sleep took him swiftly.


	12. Part II: Punishment (23.2.20)

Leopold sent a servant to report straight to Laurent on Damen’s current state, to inform him of the fever, of Damen’s need to rest. Laurent was not at all surprised, and wished Damen had been able to do so earlier, but that was the plight of Vere. Nothing was ever quiet. Nothing ever stopped. Between Lucien and Damen, both of Laurent’s charges were doing all they could to recover, and Laurent /still/ didn’t have the right to stop. He was now charged with making an excuse for why Damen - and himself - would not be present at the banquet.

Lucky for him, Damen had already informed him of how to do just that.

Laurent created an easy enough distraction that dated the appetites of all guests during the banquet. Food and wine was in abundance, carried around by the most fetching pets Vere had to offer. Cushions and small couches were set up around the hall for more comfortable viewing of the entertainment provided. Laurent found the perfect time to exit just as a pet began his talent of a fan dance. He was a beautiful boy and, though Laurent’s beauty caught the attention of others as he made his way out, the pet was attractive enough to pull it back in as the king exited.

“I will be in my chambers with Damianos,” Laurent told Huet. “Have someone inform Jord. Should I be needed, waste no time in finding me. We will hold the trial in two hours’ time.”

Huet nodded his understanding of the orders, and Laurent moved through the halls alone towards his - and Damen’s - chambers.

“How is he?” Laurent asked as he entered the room, in his hand carrying three different types of bread should Damen need it.

He did not look well there, in the centre of the bed, covered in silks and furs. He looked too similar to Lucien downstairs, especially with the cut and decoration. Laurent wanted nothing more than to climb into the bed with Damen, push his hair off his perspiring forehead and help him through this— but the thought wasn’t able to penetrate through everything else swirling and clouding in Laurent’s mind. So he stood there beside Leopold, staring down at Damen, arms crossed behind his back.

* * *

Leopold couldn’t find the need to wake Damen when it came time for the banquet. King Laurent hadn’t requested him, and it was a bit worrisome that the fever had not yet broken. Leopold had never heard of a dosage of pleasure drug that had killed anyone, but he’d never seen evidence of such a large dose given to anyone. He assumed that was because the Veretians thought Damen a true beast, something that could not be felled like a man. Or they were trying to test the theory that a man could not be killed with a pleasure drug.

Either way Damianos was still unwell at the time of the banquet. His fever still raging, his body limp, a cold cloth placed to his forehead. If it didn’t improve soon, they would need to begin the unfortunate process of drawing a cold bath.

Leopold did not expect King Laurent to enter. He didn’t know Laurent well at all, but he had heard the stories. Even so, he was slowly coming to understand the nature of his relationship to Damen, and the bread he was carrying was a touching example. He took the bread and sat it on a platter, then grabbed a warm mug of tea for the king, offering it to him.

“I gave him some of this tea and he went right to sleep. His fever still has not broken, and I fear I will need to wake him soon for a cold bath. He will be very upset, I imagine. I think I may need assistance from someone of the guard—or two.”

He still wasn’t sure the origins of this drug, though he had gleaned that it was not given to him knowingly—not knowingly by Laurent or Damianos himself, anyway.

“It would help me to know his dosage,” Leopold said. “He seems to be recovering well enough, but there are discrepancies. I am unsure how he was affected by the additional drug he was given to extend the effects.”

He looked to Laurent. “Did he follow orders? Only bread and water? Alcohol may have affected his body. Did he drink any?"

* * *

Laurent did not dare to drink the tea handed to him and instead placed it on the table next to the bed. He couldn’t risk being any more tired than he already was. He just had to make it through one more thing, and he would finally be able to rest.

For a few hours.

After he dealt with Cylan, this would all be easier. Laurent was spread too thin, his mind and body exhausted. He had dealt with much worse in his time - and chained, at that - but this amount of emotional toil was not what he had been expecting today.

And now, he was questioning whether or not he had done something wrong in his attempt to help Damen today. Leopold certainly made it sound that way.

“The dosage was in his wine,” Laurent told Leopold, confirming that Damen had had alcohol, but not since he’d been drugged. “There was residue in his cup, on my finger when I swirled they drink. It was easily enough for three men.”

“He’s done everything he was told,” Laurent continued, still standing stock still next to Leopold as he stared down at Damen. He wanted to touch him, curl up into him, but this still was not the time.

No, Laurent had to manage getting Damen to that trial. As much as Laurent did not want him there, he had made a promise to Damen to involve him, to let him rule by Laurent’s side. It did not necessarily benefit Laurent enough for him to think it was a good idea, but it had been asked of him. He would stick to his promise.

“I can help take him to the baths,” Laurent offered then, sizing up Damen as if he was not acutely aware of Damen’s size. “He will be prove more manageable with me around.”

* * *

“Hm, that may explain the extended response,” Leopold murmured. He leaned forward, pressing two fingers to the side of Damen’s neck. Damen murmured in disapproval, brow furrowing. Leopold was silent for several moments, then pulled away. “His heart rate has slowed. I think it would be best to wake him now. I must admit I’ve never worked with such a large dosage before, but I think you did well to give him the supplemental drug. The effects of three doses at once may have affected his heart.”

This was beyond his schooling, and he was well versed in pleasure drugs as a physician of the country that had invented it.

“Does Paschal have experience with these drugs?” Leopold asked. “Do not feel as though you would offend me if you brought him here. I know King Damianos trusts him, and you look as though you could use any peace of mind you can find.”

He smiled softly, then gestured to Damen.

“Would you like to wake him?” he offered. “I must go inform the servants to the specifications of the bath.” He stepped away. Laurent needed time alone, that much was obvious. “It will take me fifteen minutes,” he informed him. “If he hasn’t woken by then, I will use more…forceful measures."

Though he’d posed it as a question, he didn’t leave Laurent time to reply before he headed out the door and off to search for the materials he needed. If Laurent wanted Damen present for the trial, they would need more than just a cold bath to keep him awake and present.

* * *

The very moment the door had closed behind Leopold, Laurent was in the bed, disregarding decorum and the clothes he was wearing. He’d fully fought with a sword. Any wrinkles he wore into his clothing now, he could blame on this.

He removed his crown, placed it next to Damen’s in the small table, and lay his head next to Damen on the pillow, ghosting his fingers over Damen’s jaw.

He felt hot, so much so that Laurent could feel the heat before he even pressed skin to skin. He frowned, mirroring Leopold’s movements a moment later to touch two fingers to Damen’s neck.

One-two....one-two....one-two.

Laurent /knew/ that enough of this drug could affect Damen’s heart, but hearing it said aloud and then seeing Damen like this was...a lot. It worried Laurent more than he liked to admit. He’d hoped to never see it again after Ios, and yet here he was.

“Damen,” Laurent whispered, tapping lightly at his ruddy cheek. He swiped his finger over Damen’s dark lashes, tapped again. “Wake for me, Damen. That’s an order.”

* * *

Damen was having strange dreams. They were in his head one moment and gone the next. Fractured images of Laurent, or horses and swords, of a young man that looked like Laurent but wasn’t. He heard sounds, felt ice pressed to his neck several times—sometimes as a blade, other times as cool water.

He heard Laurent’s voice, and knew he had to go to it. Something in him told him to wake, but he didn’t realize he’d been sleeping.

Waking was heavy on his bones. HIs breathing labored, his eyelids merely opened to small slits, and his eyes felt burning. It had been some time since he’d fallen ill, and Damen…couldn’t even recall how he’d ended up here. He was in Vere, that much he remembered. And Laurent had been with him all night. Had he been sick then?

He made a noncommittal hum and closed his eyes again. Speaking felt too difficult, but he would try for Laurent.

“Laurent, sleep," he murmured in Akielon. “Please."

* * *

The Akielon was thick with sleep, almost making it difficult for Laurent to make out the most important verb, but he caught onto it soon enough.

“No, no,” Laurent tapped at Damen’s face again. Watching Damen struggle at anything was difficult for Laurent. As a man who could throw a sword and hit his mark true, as well as a man who seemed to navigate his way out of every battle, seeing Damen like this was jarring.

“Damen, darling,” Laurent tried again, this time a little more strict in tone. “You cannot sleep any longer. You need to wake up for me.”

Laurent could have leant forward for a kiss or something similar, but the idea of making Damen comfortable would not be helpful here.

“We’ve a trial to attend,” Laurent tried to remind his betrothed as if he would be able to process that. “I need you awake.”

* * *

Damen groaned when Laurent tapped his cheek, and he would have swatted Laurent away had he felt strong enough to do so. He was so tired. His bones were so heavy, and he couldn’t imagine leaving what little warmth he’d built up under the thick blankets. He still wasn’t sure how he’d ended up here, but he wasn’t ready to wake up. Surely it wasn’t yet morning.

He just wanted to rest.

But Laurent was his love, and…were they in Arles? He took a deep breath, trying to feel if he had a gold collar around his neck. He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to act.

He opened his eyes slightly more this time, and a lazy smile came to his lips. There was Laurent, right beside him.

“Are you king?” Damen hummed, taking on the monumental effort to roll onto his side. Just that little movement seemed to take all of the energy out of him. He didn’t remember ever being so tired in his life.

“Can you be king without me?” Damen whispered, eyelids fluttering. He smiled again, but it faded as he started dozing.

“No chain,” he murmured, half-asleep. “It’s too thin anyway, but you like that, hm. No chain."

* * *

It should have been sweet. Damen was always an honest man, but this little glimpse into his psyche was something Laurent did not actually get to see often. On his coronation night, he had seen Damen quite drunk and received a side of him close to this one, but this was new. It should have been sweet, but his court - like his uncle - tainted /everything/ for Laurent.

“I am king,” Laurent frowned, resting his hand against Damen’s cheek, thumbing at his fine cheekbone. He was sweaty. “I’ve been king for almost a year, Damen. You were there when it happened.”

Laurent didn’t even get to have fun with this.

But then Damen asked him a question that gave Laurent pause. He /knew/ this was a question made in an addled drug haze, but...Laurent couldn’t expect Damen to make it to this trial, and Laurent would /not/ put it off. He couldn’t do that, couldn’t allow himself to. Not after what Cylan had done to Lucien, to Damen. Not after what he was /still/ doing to them.

Damen /should/ be there, and he would be cross that he couldn’t, but there would be other opportunities. Opportunities that didn’t make /him/ look cold or heartless in front of Vere. Laurent didn’t mind shouldering that, but right now, Laurent didn’t even want Damen out there. They didn’t deserve to see him any longer - especially like this. This was something private...

And if Damen wanted a break in being king, Laurent was more than happy to oblige.

“I’d be a better king with you,” Laurent murmured honestly, quietly, his eyes searching Damen’s dozing face. “But I suppose I can do without you for the evening.”

He’d been doing it for months.

“No chain,” Laurent agreed a moment later, slipping from the bed and letting his hand slide away from Damen’s face. He needed to rest. He’d be okay, but he /needed/ that rest. “No more chains for you, Damianos.” He was free of any bonds for the evening, but Laurent knew Arles would have him back in its clutches in no time.

Laurent waited for Leopold to return, but he did not wait around much longer after that. He had to get this over with, had to rally the court and see this trial through so he could be back by Damen’s side, there for him when he was more clear of mind.

“Attendants will be sent,” said Laurent as he fixed his crown back onto his head, checking himself in the glass as he did so. “They will help you. I’ve a matter to attend to, and then I will be back by his side.” Laurent stood up, smartened himself before deciding he was ready for this.

“See that he focuses on rest. I shouldn’t be gone long.”

* * *

Leopold was surprised that Laurent wasn’t staying, but knew better than to ask about the change of heart. He had to agree it was the right choice, assuming this meant Damen wasn’t to rejoin the rest of them. He didn’t say it, but the sickness had likely been the result of overexertion. Damen was not supposed to have wrestled anyone during recovery, but at least he’d not gone drinking.

Several attendants arrived a few minutes later, and then they began the process of waking Damianos. He fought at first, but then went surprisingly quiet after Leopold informed him he was in Arles, and that things were all right. Damen asked about Laurent as he staggered down the hall, but didn’t seem to listen to any answers about him.

Leopold became very concerned when Damen entered the cold bath with no protest. He shivered and sucked in a breath, but there wasn’t one word against the matter. Leopold had assisted every rank of the royal household, and the only ones who never complained were sl—

Well.

Leopold and the attendants gently washed Damen’s hair and face, and Leopold excuse the attendants soon after, offering Damen more tea. He took it, sniffing it once before drinking.

“Where’s Laurent?” he asked a third time.

“Attending to some duties, Exalted,” Leopold murmured. He wished they were back in Akielos. It did anger him that his king had been enslaved, and that it had been horrific enough that even almost two years later back in Arles fever made him believe he was _still_ enslaved. The scarring on his back would never leave, and Leopold wasn’t sure how they had affected Damen’s training, as he attended to those outside the palace now.

“How are you feeling, Exalted?” Leopold asked.

Damen’s eyes were closed. “What do you need me for?”

“Not a thing. I simply wish to know how you are feeling.”

“Cold,” Damen replied, and his teeth began to chatter like he’d been refraining from doing so before.

“A few moments longer and we will take you to your chambers, how does that sound?”

Damen nodded slowly, but didn’t answer.

* * *

The throne next to Laurent stood glaringly empty as the councils of both Vere and Akielos made their way to their seats. Most had put off drinking during the banquet to keep their professionalism, and those that had turned to drink had been mindful not to cross the barrier between clear and cloudy minded.

A common slat of a wooden bed had been moved into the centre of the court, and Cylan’s own physician stood by, looking himself in need of medical care. He was a sickly shade of green, his hands shaking as any man would when he saw his career coming to an end, if he managed to stand tall at the orders of the King of Vere. He would need to calm down, need a steady hand.

Laurent swept his eyes over the councilmen in the room, assessing just what he was about to speak to. The Akielons were sitting with serene looks, having already come to terms with this punishment. Had Cylan spent more time tending to their guests and not his little gnarled plans, perhaps he would have had /some/ support from the Akielons. Offending their king had been bold, and as far as they were concerned, the man should probably be dead.

Laurent’s own court - with the exception of two faces - were hardly as complacent. Mathe clearly had words about this, and Jeurre did as well. They were ready to fight.

Laurent was ready to win.

Cylan was brought in a few moments later, and though he was /trying/ to stand tall, Laurent could see the break in his resolve when he noticed there was no cross in sight, only a trundle bed. They led him to the centre of the court, and Laurent began.

“It is unfortunate that the King of Akielon will not be joining us for these proceedings,” said Laurent, full of authority and power despite being the youngest and most solitary in the room, “But someone must oversee the pleasures of our people while I oversee a disservice done in my country by one of my own.”

Yes, the /pleasures/ Damen oversaw were those chemically instilled in his brain, but Laurent had not been asked to be specific.

“Your majesty,” Mathe spoke up, and Laurent did not stop him. As expected, he gave every argument Laurent had warned Damen about, about a lack of proof, of a mere coincidence. Mathe knew as well as Laurent that the poisoning would not be mentioned, and without that, Laurent had very little to argue on the wronging of the King of Vere.

But that was not what Laurent was arguing.

And that was what Mathe had not prepared for.

Laurent argued for Lucien - the /slave/ - about his treatment, his undue punishment...and his transformation to look like the king of Akielos. Mathe argued he had no proof that was the intention, and Laurent didn’t, it was true. No Akielon here had seen Damen in such a way.

But the seed was planted, and Mathe could not shake that.

Laurent opened the floor for further arguments, and after Jeurre basically regurgitated all of Mathe’s points, there were none other to be given.

So Laurent turned the attention to Cylan.

“Speak for yourself,” Laurent ordered, and when he focused his attention on Cylan, the course of the day moved through his memory, calculating and reviewing /everything/ this man had done wrong.

“The boy was punished because he failed you, your majesty,” Cylan explained. “The lashing was for /your/ honour. Certainly you do not hold a /slave/ over a king’s honor.”

Laurent quirked his brow, let Cylan keep talking.

“He failed /Vere/, your majesty,” Cylan continued. “Because of his negligence, we were swindled! Unable to properly prepare for our guests, for the king of Akielos!” Laurent waited, and as Cylan did not get the appeal from the king, he turned his efforts to the court.

“His majesty did not /want/ you here,” he told the Akielons, desperation in his voice. The Akielons shifted in disapproval and questioning, eyes suddenly on Laurent. “We were told there would be no visit, you see? We were told that his majesty did not want the king of Akielos here because he was a distraction. We had no chance to prepare for you in a proper Veretian way.”

There was a murmuring in the court then, one led by Mathe and picked up by all the others. It lasted a few moments before everyone seemed to realise the silence of the king, and the rabble faded, and for a moment, there was only silence.

“Bold accusations, Cylan,” Laurent mused, leaning back in his throne, eyeing Cylan in a way not unlike a snake ready to strike at a rat. “I do hope you have some way to prove that. As we have discovered with the pet’s little transformation, we do not navigate through hearsay here.”

“I’ve it in writing!” Cylan responded quickly, eyes on the Akielons. It was not until his eyes moved to the Veretians that he realised he had done something wrong.

“In writing?” Laurent asked, intrigued. “As in...in a /letter/?”

It seemed Cylan had forgotten what /he/ was arguing as well.

“Your majesty—“ Cylan tried to stop him, but talking over Laurent was useless.

“Perhaps the letter that your poor slave was punished for not delivering?”

It wasn’t untrue what Cylan had said, as he had read the words straight from Laurent’s writing, but the Akielons - so straight forward and single minded - only saw the injustice now. Laurent bringing up Lucien again, once more conjuring up the image of the Akielon’s enslaved king, had refocused their attentions to Cylan’s treachery. Laurent would deal with the rest later.

“Did anyone else know of the ramifications of this failed transaction?” Laurent asked outright, and to no one’s surprise except Cylan’s, no one spoke up. “No one?” Laurent tried again.

And then, Mathe spoke.

“Cylan merely told us there was no longer need to prepare,” he said, and Cylan’s eyes went wide, his face blanched. “It was only when Akielos arrived that we heard the boy needed to be punished for his insolence against the king.”

And Laurent had come full circle. He’d hoped it would have been a little more quick so that he could have been by Damen’s side, but nothing was easy in Arles.

“And insolence against the kings shall be punished,” Laurent decided with the backing of the whole court.

The punishment was sickening to watch, and even a few of the Akielons could not watch it all play out. Laurent ordered the full removal of Cylan’s organ, for a lasting humiliation in recompense for both his transgression against the king of Vere, and his misuse and framing of his slave. Cylan’s genitals were softened, crushed, and removed with three clean incisions.

Laurent did not wait for him to be stitched up.

He rose when Cylan had gone unconscious and headed for the door. He’d watched every bit of what he needed to, and though he may have felt a little sick to his stomach now, he’d hid it well enough for an Akielon voice to make a nauseous, thick-voiced comment on Laurent’s ‘cast-iron stomach.’

Laurent grabbed a wine from a passing tray as he made his way back to his chambers,

The banquet was ongoing with only sounds of celebration and pleasure. Cylan had been punished. His court had been given a warning. Akielos respected him. Lucien was stable and sleeping.

Now, Laurent would deal with that which should have been his priority but had not been allowed.

“How is he?” Laurent asked as he entered the only room he could hear movement in over the sounds of his own footsteps, the sounds of the celebration both within the palace and outside the windows.

* * *

Damen was exhausted and shivering when he emerged from the bath, but Leopold felt that the fever had finally broken. Now he would need a full night’s rest and proper care at breakfast tomorrow as to not upset his stomach. Tomorrow morning would not be pleasant, and Leopold had to meet with Paschal to discuss Veretian herbal remedies for what would likely be a horrible headache for most of the day.

He took Damen’s pulse again when they entered his chambers, and Leopold made the difficult decision to keep him awake. His heartbeat was picking up again, but he wanted to be sure. Of course, he had full confidence that Damen was a very fit young man with plenty of vigor, but it was better to be safe than sorry, especially with his own life at stake.

So he gave Damen a simple drug in a small dose that would do well to keep him awake for an hour or so more, though he wouldn’t be happy about it.

Damen was slumped on Laurent’s sofa when Laurent returned, eyes open but glazed over, blinking sluggishly. He almost didn’t register that Laurent was there at all.

Leopold gave a full report: “I had to give him another drug,” Leopold informed him. “I was unhappy with his heart rate, so it will keep him awake another half hour or so. He took a cold bath, but still does not seem to be cognizant. Once his heart rate returns to something more normal, I advise he sleeps until he wakes on his own. Until then, be careful with him.” He swallowed thickly. “I believe being in Arles has him thinking he is still your slave.”

He turned to Damen at his side. “Damianos,” he said in a louder tone. “King Laurent is here to be with you now. I will return in a half hour to attend to you once more.”

“Thank you,” Damen murmured, blinking. He smiled softly, but it was feverish and pained. Sweat coated him, made worse by the fire he insisted on sitting close to. “Laurent is here.”

Leopold frowned, looking back to Laurent. “There are cool cloths at the end of the bed in the trunk. Servants will be replacing them if you call. He has decided he will only sit by the fire, but the sweating means his fever is subsiding, so that is a positive sign.”

Even if Damianos did not look like it one bit.

* * *

Laurent actually drank the wine as Leopold recounted the last hour or so with him, and though it was bitter and dry, Laurent kept his face schooled as he listened.

“Has anyone corrected his assumptions?” Laurent asked pointedly, not at all kindly ask he sunk to the floor next to the couch, and though his tone had been sharp and regal, his decision to sit on the floor, still in his crown, was not.

Damen was covered in sweat, was feverish and warm, and Laurent had to wonder if it was because he did not know the bed was /his/ as well at the moment. The thought was like a grip on Laurent’s heart as he looked over his beloved, not yet moving to be affectionate.

“You are dismissed,” Laurent told Leopold coldly, unfairly. The man had only been there to help and had done just that. He’d done absolutely nothing wrong, but as the king set his wine glass aside. Leopold could probably understand the young King was going through a /lot/. “I will send for you should it be necessary.”

And Leopold left them.

“Damianos,” Laurent said quietly, an instant and jarring shift in his demeanour the moment they were alone. Laurent showed the sag and weariness the day and the trial had left him with, that /this/ moment was putting on him. He had been sick with worry before, and he knew he was close to it now. He knew Damen would be okay, but he could not stand where Damen’s head might be right now.

“Damianos,” he repeated, reaching up to push Damen’s curls from his face. He looked so tired. “Tell me what is happening in there.”

* * *

Leopold set his jaw. Of course he hadn’t been corrected, Damianos was in no state to understand facts or reality. And honestly, the mindset of a slave had been helpful in making sure he did as told. Leopold took no pleasure in seeing his king so submissive (if it could even be called that) but Damen needed care, and Leopold had provided it.

But he held his tongue. Laurent had been tending to all sorts of things all day, and he wasn’t Laurent’s physician, so he had no cause to speak to him in any manner other than with utmost respect. So he merely nodded his head and excused himself.

Damen was hardly conscious of anything. He heard familiar voices, but his eyes were on the fire, mesmerized by the dancing flames. The warmth on his face was nice, and his body ached for as much warmth as he could find.

He tore his gaze away when the cushions shifted, surprised to see Laurent of Vere on the sofa with him, looking deeply concerned. A dream, then. A dream he would take for all it was worth.

“You’re touching me,” Damen said with a wide smile, eyes half lidded. “Laurent of Vere.” Laurent’s hand was cold on his face, but it felt good against the heat of the fire. he still couldn’t believe /Laurent/ was acting this way. Then again, he couldn’t think of the last time he’d spoken to Laurent, or even seen him. A race, perhaps. Yes. A race—

Ah. They were both kings now, he remembered.

“My king,” Damen murmured. “The trial—“ He tried to sit up, but his bones were far too heavy. “I have to—“

He cut himself off, his mind and vision swimming. A recollection in his head shriveled away in the heat.

“Am I to sleep in your chambers?” he dared to ask. “Don’t you think I’ll escape?"

* * *

Damen was weaving through his memory, it seemed, trying to pinpoint himself in the present. It reminded Laurent of his recovery at Ios, when Damen had woken the second of third time, drugged and healing. He had opened his eyes to Laurent, craned his neck back, looked the then-prince over and asked Laurent if he were there to watch a dying man bleed. Laurent had nearly fallen off the bed in laughter, so relieved to see Damen awake, and so humoured by the /stupid/ question.

Laurent wished this could be more like then. He would trade so many things for this to be easier on Damen.

He wanted to assure Damen the trial had been tended to, but just as quickly as that thought was there, Damen navigated right around it, his drug-addled mind struggling to keep focus.

“You don't want to escape,” Laurent whispered to Damen, thumbing at his cheek again. It wasn’t as hot as before once the heat from the fire faded under his touch. “You want to rest. In your own bed, don’t you?”

Laurent was still trying to /reason/ with Damen here, but he was learning just as quickly that Leopold had not corrected Damen because he could not /be/ reasoned with right now.

So Laurent tried a different tactic.

“Come away from the fire,” he told Damen. “Come to bed with me.”

* * *

Laurent was right, he did not want to escape. Damen was tired beyond anything he had ever felt before, and with Laurent speaking to him so sweetly, touching his cheek—he didn’t know what he had done to win him over, but he was very much enjoying it. It was strange to see this soft, affectionate man in place of the cold prince he knew so well. And for it to appear so suddenly.

“To bed with Laurent,” Damen chuckled. “You have lost your mind.” But he would never refuse. He had never slept in Laurent’s bed before—he wasn’t sure if anyone ever had. It took an enormous effort to move to his feet, but Damen was a strong man. He was also wearing a chiton, apparently.

“Where are my clothes?” he asked Laurent as he teetered with every step, nearly stumbling several time on the short trip to the bed.

He pulled at the string of his chiton with sudden urgency. If Laurent saw him in a chiton—if /anyone/ saw him in a chiton, they might recognize him. Or perhaps they already had. Laurent was observant, surely he had noticed…

“Do you intend to kill me?” Damen asked cautiously, his chiton around his waist now. He was in no state to fight, and even in his cloudy haze he did not have the willpower. All of his work to hide himself…and he was wearing a chiton!

Wool. A wool chiton.

_“It is the warmest garment I can create with such restriction…”_

Damen sat on the bed, rubbing his eyes. “Sorry,” he murmured, brow furrowing. “I am having trouble remembering things.” He was so tired. Laurent looked tired too, and Damen had an overwhelming urge to comfort him, one he could not stomp down.

“Come," he urged, gently pulling Laurent between his legs. His eyelids threatened to close, but he kept them open. He was not tired, despite his body’s insistence. “My sweet Laurent.” He felt as though he might be slapped outright for saying such a thing, and unbeknownst to him, he did flinch. “Come tell me why my…” He eyed the crown. “Why my king is so upset."

* * *

He helped Damen towards the bed, honestly not sure of his plan if Damen decided to tip over. Laurent had very little chance at keeping him upright, as he had learned in their past.

Laurent did find it quite...cute when Damen went out on a limb and called what he believed to be cold prince ‘out of his mind.’ Laurent had very much thought the same time he had even considered taking Damen into his bed. He’d squashed it down a few times.

When they made it to the bed, Laurent helped Damen into it, pulling back the silks whole Damen rediscovered his clothing...and asked if Laurent meant to kill him.

“I have tried and failed enough to give up on such a venture,” Laurent murmured, pulling at the remaining string of Damen’s chiton in an attempt to free him—

But then Damen had him, stuck with /a/ memory of now, though not by any means a complete one.

“It is none of your concern right now,” said Laurent, touching his finger to Damen’s lips. Damen would remember sooner or later what Laurent had done this day, this evening, what had left him in this mood. There was no need to dwell on it for longer than necessary.

“Your king,” Laurent started, wanting to give Damen /something/ as he moved to take his own crown off, “Just wants to know his king is alright.” And Damen so clearly was not.

* * *

Oh. Well, a press of a finger to his lips was quite enough to shut Damen up. Laurent was not in a mood for talking. He had a feeling if he really pried he would get a proper answer, but Damen was not in a mood to do so. His body was starting to hurt, like it did after a long day of training. Everything felt sore. Had he fought today? Perhaps he had fought for Laurent’s honor, and that was why he was blessed with a chance to stay in his bed.

“I am your king,” Damen said slowly, just now piecing that part together. “I am tired. I wish for nothing more than…well, I do not want to sleep. Not moving. I do not want to move.” There, that covered it all.

As he slipped out of his chiton, he realized he was sweating. He couldn’t remember doing anything that would have caused him to sweat.

He rather suddenly grabbed Laurent’s arm to begin unlacing him, but the laces were moving in his hands, slithering away like golden snakes. Fuck. He tried again, but his fingers were not moving nearly enough.

“My hands are gone,” he muttered to himself, a normal thought.

He gave up and reclined on the bed, his head spinning. Suddenly another memory hit him, and he nearly sat up again, but merely turned his head to look at Laurent instead.

“That woman,” Damen said as though Lady Vannes was the only woman in the world. “Asked if I had trouble fitting inside you. I don’t remember what I said. Do I have trouble?”

Normal conversation. He was doing well.

* * *

Laurent had a keen mind, but keeping up with Damen was proving difficult the more that came careening into his brain. Laurent took up his own laces when Damen so clumsily failed to untie them, watching as his betrothed sunk into the bed, and just laid there for a moment, unmoving—

Before coming at Laurent with one /hell/ of a statement.

If Laurent had had a problem piecing together the thoughts before, this one definitely threw him. That woman...had asked—

Lady Vannes.

Ah.

“I would love to know what you said,” Laurent responded honestly, removing his jacket and moving onto his tunic. “But... I suppose sometimes you do. But we always figure it out, don’t we?”

He hoped he hadn’t just shocked Damen with the news they had lain together. He wasn’t sure where Damen’s head was right now.

Or where it had been when Vannes had asked the question.

* * *

Damen just started laughing. And laughing. Something about Laurent of Vere so candidly discussing if Damen’s cock fit inside of him was the most hilarious thing he’d ever heard. Worse, he had no memory of ever being inside Laurent, so he wasn’t sure if that was just an exemplary joke or he just didn’t remember.

Tears actually leaked from the corners of his eyes, but he wiped them away, his aching momentarily forgotten. He kept giggling a few moments longer, arm flopping out toward Laurent. He wished he could just invite him to bed, but Laurent was a…

King, right. Damen noticed his gold cuff was no longer on that arm.

Oh, he was serious.

Damen laughed again, wishing he had some sort of memory of it. It seemed his brain could only think so far as a few minutes ago. He was getting jittery as his new drug wore off, and it was hard to stay still even as his body protested.

Damen sighed, arm still extended toward Laurent.

“I’ll remember tomorrow,” he murmured. “I hope. I don’t feel well. Are you coming to bed?"

* * *

The laughing was alarming, but Laurent supposed he had said something quite funny - especially to someone who clearly did not remember bedding him. It was almost insulting, but Laurent knew the drug was potent, and could not hold such a thing against Damen right now.

“I’ve lots of clothing to take off before I can get into bed, Damianos,” Laurent chided, and maybe he was a touch peeved at not having help in doing so, but he did his best not to show it. He wanted to rest just as much as Damen did, wanted to forget this night and try again tomorrow.

He pulled his shirt over his head in a swift movement before moving to his boots, taking a seat on the bed so as to not have to attempt to hold his balance after that one glass of wine. He was by no means drunk or tipsy, but he wouldn’t be able to face it if he came off as either now.

When Laurent was free of his boots, he turned to look at Damen, unable to stop himself from tracing the vein that ran up Damen’s forearm. He wondered how much of the drug was still pumping through it...

Laurent should sleep in his sleep clothes tonight...

With a sigh, he stood, and made his way over to the trunk where he pulled out a sleeping tunic and a cloth for Damen’s head. He would regret the sleep tunic, especially when Damen’s body kept burning through the drug in the night and cooked Laurent, but a barrier would be good for the evening. Just in case of confusion or...a surge or something.

“Move,” Laurent ordered with a tap to Damen’s arm before he slipped into his usual spot in the bed, lying for now on his back next to Damen.

* * *

Damen cocked a brow as Laurent’s finger traced his forearm. Usually he would have been full of desire by the time Laurent’s touch left his arm, but tonight he just smiled. He found that he loved—yes, loved—watching Laurent ready himself for bed. It was a glimpse into his life Damen had not yet seen, a glimpse into the life of a prince thought to be cold and foreboding. Yet here he was, undressing like anyone else, putting on a sleeping tunic.

Of course Damen would never expect Laurent to lie with him naked, though the brief show of nudity was much appreciated.

“You are beautiful,” he murmured as he adjusted himself on the bed to allow Laurent to lie down. He reached over to thumb along Laurent’s collarbone, a touch he felt he could get away with. A kiss was what he truly wanted, but Laurent was tense. No need to—

_“Friends. Is that what we are?”_

Damen blinked, but was distracted by the sound of the doors opening. He withdrew his hand immediately.

“You majesty, Exalted.” Leopold greeted. “Good, you’ve gotten him into bed.” He approached the bedside and Damen tensed, but didn’t strike. This man was familiar to him. And he appeared dressed as a physician, and Laurent hadn’t done anything, so he assumed it was safe to allow the man to touch his neck.

After a moment, Leopold withdrew his hand and offered Damen a small vial of yellowish liquid.

“Drink. It will nullify the medicine I gave you earlier and allow you to sleep.” He looked to Laurent. “Best not to wake him, your majesty. His body will know when it is time. He must rest if he is to perform any duties tomorrow.”

Damen had already swallowed all of it, and hummed at its sweetness.

“If you notice anything unusual, inform me immediately,” Leopold said to Laurent, corking the vial. “He will likely have a headache when he wakes, and feel wholly unpleasant. But if he appears to be in intense pain or complains of stabbing pains or excessive soreness, call for me at once.”

Leopold excused himself, leaving Damen to try to comprehend it all with a rapidly slowing brain.

“Laurent,” he whispered, his mind wavering now. “Have I told you I love that name? Have I…”

He trailed off mid-sentence, sleep claiming him the moment it could.

* * *

“So you’ve told me,” Laurent whispered as he watched Damen just...explore his face. His touches were gentle, reserved, and he never once went in for a kiss. Laurent could have used a few kisses this evening, but it was nothing to cry about. There would be time later for that, he supposed. Damen wasn’t in his right mind anyway, and where Laurent knew he’d done nothing worth warranting a discontinuation of affection, he wasn’t about to go after anyone who was drugged, his husband-to-be included.

Laurent had just begun to find comfort when the door opened and the physician entered. Laurent had not been expecting another visit, but he did not start or jump. After his display with Cylan today, he doubted anyone would try his patience or make an attempt on his life for risk of failure.

“He will never get rest if we are constantly disturbed,” Laurent pointed out, tired in his own right of /all/ of this. He would not be waking Damen in the morning, as he hardly believed /he/ would be awake come morning. He had seen what a day of rest had gotten him, what hours of shirking his duties to just experience /life/ had gotten him, and yet Laurent was convinced he could sleep a few hours. Cylan’s trial had originally been scheduled for the usual court meeting tomorrow, so Laurent had at least bought himself an extra hour of rest.

“I will send for you if he so much as breathes wrong,” Laurent assured Leopold before he exited, finally leaving them to some sort of /peace/. Peace that was only deepened when Damen fell straight to sleep, once more leaving Laurent alone to his thoughts.

Damen looked to be finally at his own peace as he rested there, his skin no longer flushed, his eyes not skittering about beneath his lids. He wasn’t twitching, wasn’t mumbling. He was just...asleep, probably behind exhausted with all he’d pushed through today. Laurent had yet to figure out if that was the work of Cylan, Mathe, or maybe even Jeurre, but that was something for him to worry about tomorrow, after he had rested and had the mindset to dig into that. He’d place it along with checking on Lucien, buying him from Cylan, getting /him/ out of Vere should he desire it, having court, seeing to Damen, and—

Laurent yawned.

He couldn’t do it anymore.

It took him hours more to fall asleep. As much time as he spent just watching Damen and trying to keep his mind clear was just...not working for him. He was too warm, his mind too busy, but he wouldn’t risk a night of sleeping by Damen’s side for comfort he didn’t need to get used to.

He curled into Damen’s warm chest, rested so he could use Damen’s large bicep as a pillow and rest his palm on Damen’s chest, monitoring his breathing for as long as Laurent could stay awake.

It was that which finally put Laurent to sleep.


	13. Part II: Aftercare (1.3.20)

Damen slept soundly most of the night, but he did wake once with a start. It wasn’t much of one, but enough that he was left blinking, his mind spinning as the events of the day slammed into him all at once. He was fairly convinced most of it was false—fucking a pet in front of Laurent certainly didn’t seem like something he would do. The vision was fuzzy. Everything was fuzzy, the way it could be after drinking, but he didn’t recall drinking anything.

Laurent was in bed with him, and it took Damen a few more moments to realize where they were. The braziers were glowing warm, but had largely lost their heat, and the fire was a dull glow. He had never been in Laurent’s bed before, he had only laid Laurent in it once, the night of his attempted assassination.

To think how far they had come.

Damen pressed a kiss ot the crown of Laurent’s head, adjusting his arm just slightly so that Laurent was closer to him. He had no recollection of their evening, but in his sleepy haze he didn’t mind, and drifted off again.

When he woke next, it was well past dawn. Sunlight streaked through the windowpanes, made brighter where it reflected off of the fresh coating of snow that had fallen overnight.

Damen felt terrible. There was an enormous pressure in his head, and his whole body throbbed with each beat of his heart. He was sore, exhausted, fatigued beyond measure—every limb felt made of rock. /Everything/ hurt.

He let out a groan of pain, squeezing his eyes shut as it rolled through him in a wave.

“Fetch a physician,” Damen said grimly. “Fuck, everything hurts."

* * *

Laurent was vaguely aware that Damen had shifted him about during the night, but he’d merely let it happen before he fell back asleep. He was used to being manhandled by Damen, and in his half-asleep haze, he thought nothing of it.

It wasn’t until he awoke with Damen’s pain the next morning that he remembered anything of the night before.

“What—“ Laurent stirred, pushing up on his arms, his hair covering his face completely as he really listened to what Damen had to say.

Everything hurts

Everything...hurts...

Laurent pushed his hair out of his face, took one look down at Damen and—

Everything hurt.

“Fetch the physician! Laurent called to the door, knowing that - unless requested otherwise - there was always someone listening in for his orders. Even with that knowledge, however, Laurent moved out of the bed and quickly to the door, making sure there was /someone/—

Lazar.

“Physician is being gathered, your high—“

Laurent shut the door.

“Tell me what hurts,” Laurent ordered, physically misstepping as he turned so quickly, his ankle almost didn’t join him. He was still so exhausted, but he moved on, opening the trunk for the wet rags, anything else he had that could help Damen now.

* * *

Damen did not expect such a fervent response. He blinked his eyes open again, watching a little bug-eyed as Laurent launched himself from bed and started /running/ to fetch someone. What had happened last night? Damen felt sick, but he wasn’t in any danger. At least, it didn’t feel like it.

“Laurent,” he croaked, moving up to his elbows. The movement made him dizzy, and he laid back down. “It’s…I’m not all right, but I’m not dying. Not this time.” He tried to be comforting, but he couldn’t keep his eyes open. The room was far too bright.

He blindly reached out for Laurent. “Come back to bed and rest. I didn’t mean to wake you so suddenly.”

The door burst open and Leopold entered, armed with a number of medicines in a satchel and in his arms. “Exalted!” He rushed over, mirroring Laurent as he stuck his fingers to Damen’s neck for a pulse. “Your Majesty, I came as quickly as I could. What’s happened?”

“Nothing has happened,” Damen murmured in Akielon. “Everything hurts. My head, my blood, my body. Can we please shade the windows—it’s far too bright in here.”

Leopold motioned for the servants to draw the curtains and began pulling out various phials. “How about moving?”

“No,” Damen groaned. “I’ll be sick if I do that. Sitting up made me feel dizzy.”

Leopold felt Damen’s forehead and looked to Laurent with a small smile. “He will be fine. This is all to be expected. With enough time a medicine, I think he will be feeling well enough to attend duties by lunch.”

“Laurent,” Damen said again, eyes opening now as the room darkened. “Stay here and rest with me. I can’t seem to recall much of yesterday. How long have I been here? What happened to me?"

* * *

Laurent felt...foolish, he would admit to himself. The physician had warned him of aches, and when Damen...he thought he was in trouble! And if /he/ couldn’t kill Damianos of Akielos, he certainly would not give that right to his court.

And when he found out Damen was not dying? When Leopold said Damen would be fine, that this was normal, after he’d /scared/ Laurent like that?

Laurent slapped him. Right in the chest. Not hard, but very much backed enough that Damen /knew/ he had scared him.

“You are dismissed, Leopold,” Laurent murmured, sitting there on the bed, cross-legged with his head in his hands. Waking up in such a way, panicked and worried, had not been kind to him. “Have Jord report to the Council and the Akielons that there will be no court today. Let them all recover from the evening. I will send for you should Damianos decide to perish again.”

Which he might if he woke Laurent like that again.

When Leopold left, Laurent didn’t move much, only dropped his hands to look at Damen as they spoke.

“I do not even know where to /begin/, Damen,” Laurent responded gruffly, rubbing his eyes and then massaging at his temples. “You have been here since...early evening. Before the banquet. Ill. Poisoned with pleasure drugs.” Surely Laurent had not needed to recap that, but he may as well be thorough.

“Not by me, I would add.”

* * *

Damen had to drink about four vials of various liquids that tasted worse than the last. he coughed a few times, but managed to take them all. He would do anything to rid himself of such a horrible headache to spend more time with Laurent, who looked very worried indee—

“Ouch!” Damen chuckled when he was smacked in the chest, but he smiled even as he rubbed his sternum. Leopold was fighting a smile before he walked away, leaving Damen with a few crackers to try to eat. If he could keep them down, he would be able to eat. Currently. Damen wasn’t hungry in the slightest.

Memories flooded back, but not many. He remembered entering the study, laughing with Laurent among books. He remembered stumbling into the hall, a vial of green liquid that tasted terrible. He remembered a boy made to look like him—a slave—and that Cylan was to blame. He also remembered sitting on the floor with his cock in his hand, Laurent wrapped in jewels and spread for him to fuck him. That one had to be a dream.

But first, he had to tend to Laurent, who must have been running the show without any assistance.

“Come here,” Damen beckoned, sitting up and facing dizziness to pull Laurent down to rest on his chest. He pulled the covers up to cocoon them and kissed Laurent’s nose. “Perhaps you should rest more before you explain to me. You must have had a terrible day to cancel court. I trust Cylan was dealt with?”

He rubbed at the nape of Laurent’s neck, where it was impossibly tight.

“I don’t remember much,” he confessed. “Tell me that I’’m remembering correctly and you were covered in jewels, waiting for me?” A joke, surely.

* * *

Laurent went as he was pulled, not having it in him to resist right now. He crowded into Damen, and if /that/ hurt him, he’d have to get over it. Laurent had his own desires and needs right now as well, and just lying next to Damen was all he wanted right now. He knew better than to ask to relax.

“I dealt with Cylan,” Laurent confirmed with a sigh, eyes closed as he stubbornly just tried to at least pretend he was relaxing here with the strain of the conversation. “He will be in recovery for a week or so, I would think.” Laurent lifted his head up to tell Damen, “I castrated him in front of our courts.” In case Damen had forgotten. “Mathe turned on him. You would have loved it. A true showing of Veretian value.”

Laurent didn’t /sound/ sarcastic.

He leant in to Damen’s soft touch, for a moment quieted as he took the attention, his eyes closed, his breaths soft.

Damen’s second memory of the night gave Laurent pause, and though he knew exactly what Damen spoke of, he didn’t answer Damen as quickly as he could have.

Did they have to start their day this way?

“That,” said Laurent, “was a pet. Blonde yes, but he hardly looked like me.” Though Damen was probably blinded by his desires at that point. “You were quite cross about it, but you were in need, so you fucked the pet in lieu of your frigid betrothed.” And before Damen could claim too much responsibility and beat himself over it, Laurent added, “I ordered it of you.”

* * *

Well, Damen couldn’t say he was too upset about missing Cylan’s trial if he’d been castrated. He would have liked to see Laurent wield his power—it always gave Damianos a sense of deep pride. He had chosen the best possible partner in life: someone who could deliver punishment yet be here, curled up against him in the dimmed morning light.

He was feeling better already.

That is, until he heard that had had fucked a pet. Damen immediately stiffened, horrified. Surely that was a joke. He couldn’t imagine anything ever making him desire anyone else. But…if Laurent ordered him to, it was probably for a reason. He couldn’t imagine how much of the drug he must have been given if he couldn’t remember any of it.

“I’m sorry,” he said, because what else could he say? He felt like a beast. He held Laurent tighter. “You are not frigid. But it is better to hear that I…that I fucked a pet than to have tried to have my way with you in the haze.” Now that he would haven ever forgiven himself for.

He kissed Laurent’s hair, continuing to rub his neck. Laurent needed rest.

“You did well,” Damen praised quietly. “The fact that Pallas wasn’t standing over me when I woke this morning means those of Akielon did not notice what affected me. I should think that means Veretians didn’t either.” He dimly recalled…wrestling?

“As reward, you should sleep, my love. You look so tired. And then when you are feeling better, the King of Akielos demands a private tour of your gardens in full, and perhaps a ride out of the city, to…discuss trade routes. Or does that sound too much like I mean to take you to the woods to bend you over a tree stump?” He grinned. “Let it be noted that is not my plan, but if you desire it, I will provide."

* * *

No one ever praised Laurent anymore without hoping for favour from the king of Vere, especially when it came to running his country. Even the Akelons wouldn’t praise him for handling someone who disrespected his king, and Laurent knew better an to expect anything the sort from his own council.

“I would say it was easy were you not in this state this morning,” Laurent murmured, touching Damen’s forehead. He did feel much better now, without the sweat, without the fever. The ruddiness had disappeared from his cheeks, and his dimples were on full display every time he smiled at Laurent. His eyes were clearer, as well.

It was a new day. Yesterday had not been ideal for them, but their people had flourished together! Veretians and Akielons alike has been in each other’s presences, right there in the middle of Arles. They’d competed, they’d drank, they’d disagreed, but no brawls began that were not regulated on the field. No wars had started.

And Damen was alive. Lucien was alive.

They’d won the battle.

Laurent wasn’t so sure there would not be a war coming.

“You will hardly be able to stand today,” Laurent dismissed, the back of his fingertips brushing along Damen’s pronounced collarbone, his skin milk-white against Damen’s. “Let alone will you be capable of a tour or a ride.”

It was a nice idea for another day.

“And I cannot imagine your cock would respond well enough to the cold to pleasure me in a way that makes me forget you’ve bent me over a /tree-stump/, you absolute barbarian.”

* * *

It was adorable to see Laurent so concerned over him. Damen like the attention. He always had to appear a king in front of everyone else, but with Laurent he could show his true self…and whine a bit for more care. He loved Laurent so much, and was already crafting at a plan to show his appreciation for the…situation with the pet.

“I am stronger than you think,” Damen said. He wasn’t actually sure he’d be standing later, but Leopold seemed confident, so why not?

“What, you’ve never fucked outdoors?” Damen teased with a kiss of Laurent’s cheek. “We made love on a balcony. It’s much the same. Probably smells nicer for you, perhaps there will be flowers around.”

One day he hoped to have Laurent desire him enough that it didn’t matter where they wre or what they were doing, they needed to stop everything for each other.

Then again…Laurent had stopped everything for him this morning.

“How can I help?” Damen offered quietly. “You have handled two kingdoms for a whole day, I ought to be able to do something useful."

* * *

Damen has always been stronger than Laurent thought, but he also knew firsthand how Damianos recovered. He would need the day to rest, his whole - big - body would need the time to heal. And Damen would insist he could stand and move well before he should, but Laurent would not let him. No, Damen needed to take his time in getting better, in being his full self again. They would not survive another Veretian ploy without Damen at his best.

“Do you honestly think I’ve fucked outdoors?” Laurent asked dryly, rolling his blue eyes nearly into the back of his head as he moved in closer to Damen, pressed a kiss to his shoulder before resting his head again. “I have barely been fucked /in/doors, Damen.”

But that was enough about fucking. Laurent wondered how much of the drug was still in Damen’s system.

“You could help by recovering,” said Laurent matter-of-factly when the question was posed. “Regain your strength, Damianos, and I will tell you more of what happened yesterday, and what we seemingly have to look forward to on the day of our union.”

Poisons, ploys, and further recompense for the princekiller.

Laurent had a headache just thinking about it.

* * *

Even as he laughed with Laurent, Damen couldn’t help but wonder how he was really doing. What he did remember of their time in Arles was their first night together here, and Laurent hadn’t fully unwound that evening. Vere was different than Akielos, and while being a king was difficult in any situation, Damen never felt as pressured by it all as Laurent seemed to be.

“I will recover if you rest,” Damen promised, adjusting the blanket around Laurent to keep him warm. He was rather surprised Laurent had gone to bed with him at all, he imagined he must have been a nightmare of desire. But Laurent loved him, and so he had stayed. It was very impressive.

“I love you very much,” he murmured, just in case Laurent had forgotten. He kept an arm looped around him, holding him securely. Even in this state, he was fully prepared to go after anyone who dared disturb them. And he did feel much better—his headache was ebbing, his body relaxing.

But as he dozed, he realized why it was much easier to be king of Akielos. He had powerful support in Nikandros and the majority of the kyroi. He had the respect of the armies, and of many of the generals. They trusted him because he had shown he could be trusted, and Damen never suspected trickery out of any of them.

Things were different in Vere, but perhaps they didn’t need to be. The Regent had twisted the minds of the council, but surely seven years had not changed the rest of the country so drastically after generations of better leadership.

With those thoughts in mind, Damen nuzzled Laurent once more, then drifted off into an easy, restful sleep.

* * *

The idea of resting seemed like a foolish notion to Laurent - like a far-fetched dream, made for those who did not have responsibilities, expectations, a kingdom to run.

Laurent had never been prepared to be a king, had never been meant for the throne. When his father passed, Auguste was meant to rule, and from there, his son and then his son’s son, and so on. Laurent had been raised in books, had to beg to be trained with Auguste on the field. He had no idea how Auguste would have done things, barely knew how his father /had/. He was making up what he thought to be best as he went along.

It was exhausting, and Laurent - from time to time - realised that it would actually be easier /without/ Damen, without Akielos and continuing their relations after the war, but Laurent wouldn’t go back just to make things easier. They were on track to something that would help both kingdoms flourish, something that would unite a whole coast. It would never be easy, but it would be worth it.

Laurent had rested two days ago. He’d rested and because of it, his council had time to piece together a conglomeration of twists and ploys for them that had left two people he cared for in questionable states of stability. He couldn’t rest again.

And yet he fell right asleep, a soft, “I love you too,” murmured at some point or the other as his eyes drifted closed under golden lashes.

* * *

When Damen woke again, it was to Leopold and servant, two small meals on silver bed trays. Leopold felt his head and gave him another round of medicine, silent as he did so. Damen doubted Laurent was still sleeping, but it had been a long day yesterday. Leopold was careful to be quiet as he set down the trays of what Damen presumed was their lunch.

“Have we missed lunch?” Damen asked quietly.

“It was about an hour ago,” Leopold informed him in a whisper. “Nothing of any importance happened—it was quite a pleasant meal for both kingdoms, from what I hear.”

Damen nodded his approval and Leopold took his leave. He hoped it truly was a pleasant meal for his people, and for Laurent’s. Vere needed to be shown how things could be, how things were in Akielos. Damen had full confidence his people would not react well to Vere’s way of being. Damen hadn’t, and he hadn’t brought anyone along who might come to think lying and cheating would make a good partnership.

He moved onto his side, facing Laurent and bringins his other arm to hook over his beloved. He pressed feather-light kisses to pale cheeks, trying to guide Laurent awake so he could eat some proper food.

“Lunch is here,” he whispered, nibbling at Laurent’s ear. “Eat and you can go right back to sleeping.”

He doubted Laurent had eaten at all yesterday.

* * *

Laurent willed himself to sleep through the visit, knowing well that they were in no danger from Leopold. Of course, staying asleep was it actually an option, but he did /try/.

Even in moments where he would not - /could not/ - be sleeping (the conversation, the placing of the trays, the shifting), Laurent kept his eyes closed, as if he would magically be able to fall back asleep.

Damen was nibbling at him before it could happen.

Laurent actually - miraculously - smiled at the little kisses to his cheek, shying in a way under the attention. He’d heard what Leopold has had to say - a pleasant experience, even without their watchful eyes on their kingdom. Laurent shouldn’t relax, but...stress would not be useful right now.

“Let me starve,” Laurent instructed Damen in a sleepy murmur, eyes still closed, hidden in part by his golden hair. “Take my kingdom. Hang me on the wall for disobedience. I’ll not fight it.”

* * *

“I could never let you starve,” Damen murmured, grinning against Laurent’s skin. He was glad to see the marks on Laurent’s neck were still there, dark and beautiful on his pale skin. He didn’t know how Laurent kept his skin so soft when he was such a busy man. There wasn’t time for some of the routines royal ladies got up to.

Damen plucked a grape from his plate and popped it in his mouth, and grabbed another for Laurent.

“Must I feed you?” Damen asked, pressing the grape to Laurent’s lips. “Such a sweet taste. The last of the grapes for some time. Surely you don’t want to waste it.”

He wanted to see to it that Laurent ate his entire breakfast, that he curled up in bed and slept with a full belly. Dmane didn’t mind if they spent all day in bed. Their kingdoms needed to learn to get along without them.

Besides, he liked that they would assume he was enough to convince Laurent of Vere to stay in bed with him all day.

“Eat and return to sleep,” he urged. “It will feel wonderful."

* * *

Laurent took the grape into his mouth, his eyes still closed, chewing sleepily and absently. It was not until he came upon his own realization that he must look ridiculous, and that he was very much capable of feeding himself that he sat up, rubbing his eyes and looking down at the tray in front of him, the foods they had been delivered.

He shifted his sleeping tunic, unwrapping a long lace from where it had wound around his neck in sleep before also picking up on how ridiculous it was that he still had it on.

His mind was too vacant for him to have the time to think of these things - to /feel/ these things - but he did not rush the passing of them. Even as he took his tunic off, tossed it to the side of the bed, he could already feel the day rushing back to him, rushing back into his overworked mind as he was so used to.

“I’ll not go back to sleep,” Laurent murmured, his tone incredibly flat as he picked another grape out of the bunch to eat. He’d not minded Damen feeding him. It reminded him of the niceties of a pet’s life - when handled properly. It made him feel quite spoiled, and perhaps that was why he made the move to feed himself, not wanting Damen to dote on him when he was already so sick.

“You’ve woken me now. Have it on your head that I’ll not see sleep until exhaustion takes me tonight."

* * *

Damen grinned when Laurent took the grape from his fingers and had already reached back to pluck another when Laurent seemingly decided to wake fully. He couldn’t hide his surprise when the first thing Laurent did was take off his sleeping tunic, and Damen couldn’t help but reach out to run a hand over Laurent’s hip as he leaned to get his food.

Damen also saw the moment that Laurent’s shoulders took on the weight of the day, how tense and tight they became in just moments.

“Eat your food and then we will lie under the covers and talk,” Damen said, and he didn’t leave room for argument. Laurent was taking too much on, and Damen was going to put a stop to it today. Not everything had to be under Laurent’s control. Vere was a country of /people/ and humans were the same underneath cultures and climates.

“Perhaps I’ll be able to bore you to sleep,” Damen chuckled, taking a flaky pastry from his plate. He did like Vere’s bready desserts, he remembered as he chewed. Just the perfect amount of sweetness.

He rest a hand on Laurent’s leg, thumbing the soft skin of his inner thigh as he ate his pastry. He wanted Laurent to know he was close, and that he loved him.

* * *

Laurent subconsciously put his hand over Damen’s at his hip, as he always inexplicably did when Damen touched him. Even Laurent could not tell if it was a response to wanting control, or if it was just to prove to himself that it was real, that Damen was actually touching him, holding him.

He only became aware of it when he needed two hands to remove the grape from the bunch, and he let Damen’s hands go to roam freely, unencumbered, while they ate. It didnt seem necessary, their touching now, but it was quite nice. Laurent, as much as he would never admit it, thought at least Damen deserved this day, deserved to enjoy himself, and if he was part of that enjoyment, then he would not complain.

“I doubt you could ever bore me, Damianos,” said Laurent with a weary sort of certainty, as if just the thought of /all/ Damen did and could do just overtaxed him.

It did.

“And I would not ask you to.” Laurent went on, picking at his own little bread dessert delicately between two fingers, effectively getting both hands sticky. "It would involve you changing your personality, and I would not stand for it.”

Laurent may fear his love for Damen, but he would never have it changed. Fear he could overcome, but loss would be so much more difficult to bear.

* * *

It still struck him whenever Laurent spoke to him so tenderly. The same tongue that cut other down with its cruelty and malice was…so sweet to him. So kind. He wanted others to see this side of Laurent, the man who got jam on his fingers and spoke in a normal tone. One who loved and was loved.

Damen loved him so much it hurt sometimes. Now was one of the times where it hurt so much, because he wanted Laurent to be the ruler he /was/ underneath all of the poison of Veretian politics.

“I kissed you yesterday,” he recalled with a hint of pride. “In front of everyone.” A smile grew on his face and his hand moved up Lauren’t back, kneading gently around the base of his spine. He stuffed another pastry in his mouth, chewing contentedly with cheeks full of food in what he was sure was a ridiculous expression.

He swallowed, licked his lips free of crumbs and jam, then pressed his lips right to the base of Laurent’s spine and started kissing his way up. He shifted himself to sit behind him and started massaging the places where his lips had left, trying to ease just a bit of tension out of his betrothed.

“I am going to have a masseuse attend you every week when we are in Marlas,” Damen murmured. “I will force it into your schedule. You carry too much stress, Laurent.”

He worked at Laurent’s shoulders and kissed the nape of his neck.

“I think we should do something nice for the councillors,” Damen said a moment later. “For the court. I want it to be from both of us, not just me. We need to work on braking the idea that backdealing will not bring success in Vere any longer. Change begins with us."

* * *

“You did,” Laurent confirmed with a curt nod, his attention still on getting the pastry off his fingers. “You supposedly also told Lady Vannes about the difficulty you had entering me? Is that something I heard correctly?”

Oh, just thinking about all that Damen had done attested to Laurent’s earlier thoughts. He would /never/ be boring.

Especially with the way he tried his luck, always leaving Laurent at odds on how to respond.

Laurent remembered when he had ordered Damen not touch him, when he had punished him irreparably for doing so. Now, Damen just took liberties in these massages, in telling Laurent what he would do. He’d have a pet out of Laurent yet.

Oh, that was a laughable idea.

“What do you possibly think we could do that would please them?” Laurent chuckled, shaking his head as he forced his body to relax under Damen’s strong hands. His large, strong hands. And his lips. Laurent couldn’t forget that.

“The end of our union? Oh yes, they would squirm with delight, /or/—“ He was having fun with this. “Let us go missing for a few days. Give your advisors the chase and mine the hope that we’ll not return. A brilliant idea, my love.”

* * *

Damen thought about Lady Vannes for a moment, then pressed another kiss to Laurent’s shoulder. “No, I never said anything to her about it. I told her we don’t discuss those things in Akielos. I think she was hoping for a story.” It was strange to unspool memories this way, to recall them only as they were spoken of. But at least they came back with something close to clarity.

He responded to Laurent’s relaxation with more strength in his kneading, working at a tight lump of muscle knotted in Laurent’s shoulder. Paschal needed to get someone to see Laurent /before/ they moved to Marlas.

Damen nipped at the join of Laurent’s neck and shoulder when his idea was mocked, but it was teasing.

“That is our challenge,” Damen murmured, lips feathering at Laurent’s nape. “Finding something to please them. Something that…”

He thought a moment.

“You,” he said, almost distractedly. “They want your favor. Regardless of what they think of you personally, you are still king. Your title brings power. Have you ever…do they even have homes outside of the palace? They must. Have you ever visited? Perhaps we tell them that you would like to take me on a tour of Arles, and that you wish to be their guests for a meal or a drink or something trivial.”

“Or a tour of their stables, if they like horses. Something to flatter them. I think they would melt if only because of the attention the kingdom would pay them."

* * *

Laurent despised the idea, and it shown clear in his expression, as if he had just eaten a rotten grape or pulled a long hair from his pastry.

Tour Arles and visit /their/ homes. Laurent didn’t even entertain the idea that they /had/ homes outside of the palace, even if he knew they all did.

He knew for a fact that Councillor Haris lived near Chastillon, as he oversaw the lands on the walls. Mathe was the only councillor within the gates, as he was charged with all the servants, all the political events within Arles. Cylan lived deeper into the region of Belloy, and Laurent could not think of a sadder tour.

“I would rather you share our sexual exploits with Lady Vannes to please her,” said Laurent matter-of-factly, “Surely we can do all of that after the union. We will have to /tour/ enough then.”

They’d have to tour the entirety of the new kingdom, all of the regions, and if they started in Marlas, they’d have to go and the backtrack. They’d be on horseback for months—

And Laurent almost welcomed the idea. He missed the adventure, missed the experience, the game, the /danger/. It was such a wonderful idea.

When it was for /them/, and not just to please their council.

“Must I remind you how our last tour went?”

* * *

Damen also missed traveling with Laurent. Stopping the slave trade before the ascension had been the last time they both were out on the road together. Damen enjoyed being Lamen, even if Charls knew who he was now. He had been tickled to be told how to best proceed in his affection for the King of Vere, and it was always fun to pretend to be someone else for awhile, so long as Laurent was playing along with him.

“Well, we could tour one or two now, and the others later,” Damen argued. “Unless you have a better idea to please them—a real one.”

He was glad they were able to be together like this. They could decide to hold court or to cancel it for the day, and they could recline in bed together and make plans of their future together, decide things far beyond their union. They were two powerful men, and Damen needed the public to see Laurent as something more than that.

Damen wrapped his arms around Laurent’s middle, resting his cheek between Laurent’s shoulders.

“We need them on our side, Laurent. We need to show them a new way. If they don’t like it, they will scheme and we will root them out one by one."

* * *

Laurent did not yet have a /real/ idea. Ever since he had invited Lady Vannes to join his council as the first woman to serve in such a position, he couldn’t say any idea of his had been widely regarded as a good one. He had changes yet to make with his council, more idea to anger and enrage them.

But he supposed he could /try/.

He could at least play the game.

“Cylan’s,” Laurent decided, fighting a grin as he chewed over a berry, trying his best to remain placid in expression. “If we are to do it your way, we start with Cylan’s home.”

He wondered if Damen still felt this idea was an olive branch, or if perhaps, he had begun to see the flaws in it when Laurent weeded out the grey and gave it back to him in black and white.

“Or Lady Vannes.” The court would see it as a blatant disrespect to see the newest member - and also a woman - first. “I presume she would love an evening of women, wine, and your stories.”

The wind howled just outside the window, just in time to bring up another point against Damen’s good-natured gesture. The weather. It was still not yet the height of winter, but it would be quite cold outside.

Laurent would love to see Damen remain hospitable through that.

* * *

  
Damen snorted, thinking Laurent was joking about visiting Cylan first. But Laurent didn’t seem to be joking.

“We can’t go visit someone who you just castrated,” Damen said, not hiding his annoyance. Visiting Cylan would be approving of his actions, and Damen would not approve of a man who had drugged him! Cylan needed to be off the council and they could visit the others.

He rolled his eyes as the second suggestion of Lady Vannes, but he wasn’t opposed. She might actually be the perfect candidate. A woman, a councilwoman no less. A change to the kingdom, and a woman who was fearlessly in charge of her corner of court. Damen didn’t trust her, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t good at what she did.

The wind howled outside and he unconsciously gathered Laurent closer to him as if to shield him from the gales. He thought of his men and hoped they were properly fitted for the weather should they be completing duties in the weather.

“Lady Vannes would be an acceptable choice,” Damen murmured with a kiss to Laurent’s back. “Perhaps I can demonstrate how I fit inside you. Do you think that would win her favor?” He wasn’t above joking at his own expense, not when it came to Laurent.

He snuck one of Laurent’s almond and strawberry cookies and chewed thoughtfully.

“What if we held a competition?” Damen asked. “And whomever wins, that is whose house we visit? That way they will have earned it, and we only need to visit one. And Cylan will not be part of it."

* * *

A competition. It would turn his council’s attention and schemes towards each other, would give him a break for a few days. Especially barring that they would not be demonstrating anything of the sort with Lacy Vannes. It hadn’t so much to do with dignity and shame, as much as Laurent would not even give her the satisfaction. And he liked her!

“I would laugh if I knew the thought of that would not churn your stomach,” Laurent murmured casually, and he leant back into Damen’s little kiss, and then into his arms, threatening to crush Damen beneath his shoulders. “And would render your cock completely useless. I’ve not yet seen you perform in bed under such aversion, but I believe inability is in you yet.”

“It does seem unreasonable to not allow Cylan the opportunity to regain our favours,” Laurent added, shifting his body so he was lying across Damen, a little awkwardly, but he was comfortable, and that was what mattered now. Damen was clearly well enough that he could banter, so Laurent did not need to show him sympathy at this moment.

“And what kind of competition do you suggest, Damianos?” Damen’s chest was very firm under him, his muscles hard when he was laid out like this. He was not much fun to lay on. “A battle of the minds? Or something more physical?"

* * *

Damen accepted Laurent’s movement to lie on top of him, grateful for more touch. He kissed Laurent’s head and reclined further to allow Laurent to lay on him more comfortably, though without pillows he was forced to look at the ceiling. Laurent was right - there was now world where he would publicly perform a sexual act with Laurent in front of others. Not by choice, anyway.

“And how do you envision Cylan participating in anything with his cock freshly sawed off?” Damen snorted. He wasn’t exactly upset he’d missed the display, but he did feel it served Cylan right for the insult. He didn’t have the opportunity to regain their favor for some time in Damen’s eyes.

He grunted as Laurent put his full weight on him, but he didn’t really mind. He rubbed at Laurent’s back lovingly, tracing his spine.

“I can hardly see any of your soft councilors participating in a physical trial,” Damen chuckled. “Riding, perhaps, but even that seems out of their realm. So I would assume some mental challenge.”

It would be something boring, he was sure. A chess match, or a rousing game of marbles. He really didn’t know what Veretians did for amusing games.

“Any ideas? A brute like me wouldn’t know a game of the minds. You’re the bookish one."

* * *

Laurent helplessly laughed at the idea of his council doing any more than a light trot on horseback, and even then, Laurent found a thought that only made him laugh harder.

“Cylan on his mount,” Laurent laughed, a bright sound - not the low chuckle that usually sat in his chest. It dissipated quickly, as laughter and smiles usually did with Laurent, but it had been there, genuine and /him/, for longer than he ever would have allowed it in the presence of anyone but Damen.

Laurent wiped at his eye, shook himself free of that thought before it took him again. Oh, what he would pay to see /that/.

Damen was a brute, Laurent would give him that, but Laurent would also have him no other way. No man in Arles, including himself, would ever be able to best Damen in the long run. He thought in a way no Veretian could understand, a way even Laurent was still learning to navigate. If anyone should be challenging the Veretians, it was Damen.

“Perhaps a policy offer,” Laurent said much more seriously a few moments later, making their position even more awkward as he rolled to lie on his back, his shoulder blades undoubtedly crushing into Damen’s chest and abdomen. “They can each come up with a new policy for the progression of Vere and Akielos, and whoever does not end up with a treason charge against them, wins.”

* * *

Laurent seemed to want to be a cat this morning with the way he was sprawling out on Damen with little regard. Damen didn’t mind, even if it was a little harder to breathe with Laurent on his ribcage. He didn’t mind, and he felt much better now that he wasn’t violently ill. The medicine had helped, though he did feel weak. As much as he wished to be out among the people, he knew it was probably best to stay in bed today.

“A policy offer sounds interesting,” Damen murmured. “That will also require them to learn more about Akielos from my people if they hope to win. They could help with the judging.” He found Laurent’s hand and gently began to thumb along the inside of his palm just to keep his touch.

Wind screamed outside once more, and Damen loathed the idea of leaving the relative warmth here.

“Is this a winter storm?” he asked absently. He’d never experienced one, only the occasional snowstorm in the mountains on a few short visits. Those had never been bad.

“How often do they occur here?”

The court could sort themselves out, Damen much preferred conversations that had nothing to do with being king.

* * *

“And they /would/ learn about Akielos if it meant besting one another,” Laurent murmured in agreement, staring up at the ceiling above him, really laying into this plan now. “And it /would/ leave them occupied for a few days, give us a few days or so to ourselves…” It would be time to be their own kings, without the worry of Vere’s scheming.

That was, of course, if they did not all band together to use this against Laurent and Damen.

They would need to improve the prize, add upon it so it was irresistible to one man - or woman. A visit and the envy of the kingdom was one thing, but they would need to add something fantastical - and it would need to be from Damen’s camp. Laurent’s court knew all of that which Laurent had brought in, so…it would need to be something new, something wonderful.

He would have thought about it more, had Damen not asked his silly question.

“This is the beginning of Winter in Arles, Damen,” Laurent chuckled, grasping the hadn’t that played at his palm. He really had chosen an odd angle to lie around at. “This is the first snow, yes, but it is light. The winds blow in from the mountains of Vask, and the Northern Forest. They will get stronger in the next few weeks, and /then/ you will experience a winter storm.”

And Damen would be stuck here for an extra six to eight days.

Laurent may have planned that.

* * *

“I would love a few days to ourselves,” Damen hummed, closing his eyes. How he would love to have Laurent to himself for as long as he could. He wished he was in a position to kiss him, but it wasn’t possible with Laurent laid out on him. So he just nestled into the bed a little further and kept thumbing Laurent’s palm.

He frowned when he heard this was only the beginning of winter. Surely not. The wind was outrageous already—and this wasn’t even a storm? He was going to be stuck here all winter. Which wouldn’t be so bad if he had Laurent at his side.

Once again he though of Pallas and Lazar, and he was thankful to be a king. To have Laurent with him, safe and warm in an opulent bed surrounded by food and braziers.

“To think you’re survived so many without a bed partner,” Damen murmured, squeezing Laurent’s hand. “Though I do wish you’d move so I could properly hold you. A few kisses might be nice.”

He wanted to smother Laurent in love, to make sure he knew he had a partner in this now. No more winter storms needed to be spent alone, no more work needed to be shouldered without help. He loved hearing Laurent laughing, to see the smiles on his sweet face. Anything he could do to preserve that, he would.

“I’m incredibly ill, remember,” Damen said, pretending to cough. “I need affection or I may die."

* * *

Damen thought this was cold, thought Laurent needed a bed partner to warm him from only the beginnings of how harsh Arles could become in the northern most province of Vere. He would learn now, though.

And Laurent had planned. He’d planned to take care of his people - including the Akielons out in their tents. Whether Damen had been notified or not, every Akielon had been gifted with a fine cover, a welcoming gift from Vere than had cost Laurent a small fortune. Veretian soldiers had been sent out to set up fires every few tents.

The walls of Arles would protect them from the worst of the weather, and by the time they no longer could, most Akielons would probably have residence /somewhere/. Those who did not be given spots in stables, within the palace. Damon had brought a small army - enough to manage.

Laurent hoped he could manage the other Akielons more easily than he could his chosen one.

“But you are /so/ comfortable,” Laurent responded, lying through his teeth as he rolled to face Damen - his shoulder now crushing Damen’s chest until Laurent was forced to roll off by his own discomfort. He tucked his head, rolled until he was next to Damen, one leg crossed over the other in his roll, splayed along the bed, his head right next to Damen’s on his pillow.

Laurent smiled.

“If you are dying,” Laurent started up with that same light grin, free of restriction, of guard, of walls, “Then my plan is working. Long live Vere.”

* * *

For a moment Damen thought Laurent was going to roll on top of him just to be annoying, but he did finally come to rest beside him. Better yet, Laurent had an easy smile on his lips that caused Damen to bite his lip because he found it so heartwarming. Perhaps this Laurent was hidden from the world because he was too beautiful.

“Oh? So you do mean to kill me” Damen teased. He was up in a moment, all but lunging the short distance between them to pin Laurent with his arms, straddling him. He kissed Laurent’s cheek, grinning all the while.

“I knew it was your plot all along.” He dug his fingers into Laurent’s ribs—gently, to tickle him. He knew he was probably going to be hit for it, but he didn’t care. He wanted to be a little childish this morning, to hear Laurent laugh or squeak or just smile more.

He relented after a few moments and sat up with a grin.

The world spun, and for a moment his vision went dark. Oh.

Damen lowered himself back over Laurent, this time for a proper kiss. He could still taste sugary jam in Laurent’s mouth, feel the warmth of sleep on his skin.

“Thank you for taking care of me,” he murmured between kisses. “I would not have made it through the day without you."

* * *

Laurent /almost/ countered the pinning, but it had happened too quickly. No normal man with the drug dosage Damen had receded would have been able to move that fast, so Laurent was just a second behind due to surprise. Damen pinned him and then started tickling him which /no one/ ever did. Laurent couldn’t even say he was familiar of the sensation, having not felt it since he was a child, surely.

Damen would have gotten hit if he didn’t succumb to his own health a moment later. Laurent expected him to lie back down but Damen, as he was so apt to do, used his strength to dote over Laurent with sweet kisses, a wet tongue.

When the kiss ended, Laurent chased it, but Damen broke it up with kind words, making the moment almost despicably sweet.

“It was mostly Paschal and Leopold,” Laurent murmured, chasing him into another lengthy kiss, his hands mussing the back of Damen’s curls. “Most of my participation was in undeserved callousness.”

He’d been stressed.

“Besides, I am quite sure you could walk through a hearth and come out on the other side just—“

A knock sounded in the room, and a moment later, slow footsteps could be heard in the room - an odd gait. With someone who would not wait for the right to enter, Laurent had to assume it was someone he had called for or—

Jord.

And at his side, his arms braced around his waist was Lucien, grey and sweat-soaked, still dressed in his garb from yesterday. Jord himself looked exhausted, and when he stopped, he let Lucien move to the floor before Laurent and Damen’s bed.

“Pick him up,” Laurent ordered in a harsh little bark, nothing like his soft honeyed tone he’d just had with Damen.

“He wanted to kneel,” Jord replied gruffly, though he did crouch next to Lucien to help him up as needed. The pet resisted.

“Your majesties,” Lucien croaked hoarsely, his hands shaking from what Laurent could guess was both a mixture of fear and cold. His hair looked even worse from the back. “I only desired to—to apologise for my appearance and my injustice to the Akielon king.”

* * *

Damen didn’t know how he’d lasted a moment apart from Laurent. Each kiss filled him with warmth, a tingling desire for more, and the sweet desperation to show Laurent just how much he adored him. It was easy to be lost in it, especially with the way Laurent kissed him. Despite not being very experienced in bed, Laurent was very experienced with his lips.

He hummed his approval when Laurent’s fingers tangled in his hair, and he let the heat between them build ever so slowly. As much as he was always ready for whatever Laurent wanted, he had to be realistic. He wasn’t in a place where he could properly bed him.

But then there was a blasted knock. There was always a damn knock. And it always seemed to happen when Damen was nude in a compromising position over his betrothed.

His cheeks immediately flushed, and upon seeing Lucien he felt even more ashamed and embarrassed. Lucien looked like a corpse walking. Or a corpse being dragged.

Once again, Damen was angry. Lucien was a young boy who had been used in an obscene way, turned into a plaything for the court of Vere as Damen had when he was brought here. He had done nothing wrong, and was probably a good soul—Laurent didn’t like those who weren’t.

Damen eyes his discarded chiton on the floor beside the bed and moved toward it. If he kept his movements slow his vision didn’t darken. He managed to grab the chiton and pull it up to his hips and over his shoulder. He even tied it, because Lucien deserved respect. Damen didn’t give respect to everyone, and he wanted Lucien to know he had earned it.

So the King of Akielos crouched, then moved to his knees to be on the same level as a pet. In his private chambers, he could kneel—and he would. After all, he had been a pet here not long before. His vision trembled and his body was weak, but he was in far better shape than Lucien.

“The only injustice was inflicted upon you,” Damianos murmured. “You have nothing to apologize for. You should be resting, Lucien.” He reached forward to rest a hand on Lucien’s shaking shoulder.

“Laurent,” Damen said louder. “I would like Lucien to be attended in our baths. I would also like him to be given clothes fit for this weather, a proper trim to his hair, and for Paschal to tend to his wounds as he did mine."

* * *

Laurent brought the silk of the sheets around himself as Damen rose, uncertain as to where this was going. Veretian clothing did not facilitate the moments where quick dressing was needed, so if Laurent was to be adopted cover, it would be by his sheets. And when Damen rose and dressed, Laurent did as well, holding the silk about himself out of respect.

He stood as Damen kneeled, watched from above as Lucien raised his head, confused, looking from Damen to Laurent and, upon accidentally catching his eye, dropping his head to the floor again.

“I do not wish—“ he started after Damen’s decree, desperately, almost as if he feared their kindness. He thought he was a nuisance, Laurent could see clearly enough. It was to be expected.

“See that it’s done,” Laurent said to Jord, who nodded, knelt down once more to help the boy. This time, Lucien went, leaning against Jord while muttering weak gratitudes, his head still bowed.

“And see that the pet’s chambers in my halls are dressed for him,” Laurent continued, offering his arm to Damen should he need help staying upright in these next few moments. He really shouldn’t even be on his feet. “Properly, Jord. As if they were for you. He does not return to Cylan.”

“Your majesty—“ Lucien went to contest, but Laurent raised his hand.

“You no longer belong to Cylan,” Laurent explained, reaching forward to touch the boy’s shoulder. The boy actually winced when Laurent reached out, which made a lot of sense. Laurent didn’t take it personally. He knew what he gave off. “Jord is now the holder of your contract. You’ve been bought.”

That news took Jord by surprise, it seemed.

“A gift,” Laurent said curtly, without any warmth, but it /was/ a genuine offer.

“I don’t—“ Jord started, but then Lucien was holding Jord with a little more strength, thanking /him/ profusely.

And Jord didn’t seem to mind it.

“Take care of him,” Laurent ordered, nodding towards the door. “Anything he needs. I know you will treat him properly.”

Laurent almost made a comment about /this/ being the one to trust and to fall for, but it would only detract from the moment if he did so.

* * *

Damen had planned on buying Lucien himself, but as usual, Laurent had a better idea in mind. Jord would take good care of Lucien, and perhaps…perhaps find something he needed in him. Caring for someone always helped bring out the good in people, and would give Jord someone to focus on when he wasn’t on guard. Not to mention Lucien had been a much desired pet in Vere, and Damen doubted a few scars from the whip would negate his value.

He used Laurent for support in standing, watching with his vision fading in and out as Jord took Lucien away.

Damen had Laurent’s help to the edge of he bed and sat before pulling Laurent in, his legs on either side of Laurent’s thighs. He put his arms around his betrothed and simply rested his head against Laurent’s middle, holding him tight.

“We are very lucky,” he murmured softly. “I keep thinking of Pallas and Lazar. I suppose I wasn’t paying attention, but I never knew Pallas had affections for him, and I trained with Pallas daily. To think he has no say in when he will see his beloved, and Lazar the same.”

And he had Laurent. The jewel of Vere. Even if Auguste had taken the throne, Laurent would have been the most sought after man in the four kingdoms. Damen would surely have made an excuse to visit Vere just to see him.

Yet here he was, bathed in the warm light of the fire, a king.

Daman released his hold after a moment, leaning back to look at Laurent properly. His hands moved beneath the silk, palms smoothing over Laurent’s muscled thighs, his impossibly soft skin.

“But I,” he said, “am luckiest of all."

* * *

Laurent let his hands fall into Damen’s hair as he rested his head right against Laurent’s abdomen, arched his back the smallest bit as if he needed to use his middle to support Damen’s head. Of all the positions - like lying back into the bed - Damen had chosen this one.

Lazar and Pallas, Laurent wanted to say, were still in a place in their romance where the relationship was still budding. Still new. They fucked when given the chance and afterwards, he could bet they had begun to cuddle. Their separation would undoubtedly hurt the most the next time, when Pallas returned to Akielos with Damen’s troupe. They would have the time during this visit to solidify something /real/. And then they would be just as lucky as Damen and Laurent.

“You say that,” Laurent murmured, thumbing softly at Damen’s temple, “and yet you ended up with /me./“

He smiled down at Damen, tracing his fingertips lightly over Damen’s lips, thoughtful on something, mulling over it in his mind. Laurent could be a horrible person, he knew, and it was that cold streak that made him so unloveable.

His uncle aside, Laurent had actually been a very agreeable young man.

“Lucien will be lucky to have Jord,” Laurent said decisively, as if only now thinking over what he’d done, following the track of his own thoughts to.../that/. “It will never make up for what I did to Aimerick, but I think it will fill a hole I left there.”

Laurent was /trying/.

* * *

“I say that /because/ I ended up with you,” Damen replied. It was strange to hear Laurent having anything less than full confidence in himself, and he wondered how much of this moment was the true Laurent. Had Auguste taken the throne, would Laurent have been shy? Damen couldn’t imagine it. Yet here it seemed like Laurent might have snuck off to be with his books instead of meeting the crown prince of Akielos.

It was more evident in the way Laurent regarded him now, his fingers trailing along Damen’s lips in a way that immediately made him think _virgin_. He wondered once more if there would ever be a day where Laurent realized that this was their forever. That they would have each other, they would have his. For decades more.

“Lucien will be lucky to have Jord,” Damen agreed, hands on Laurent’s hips now, gently reminding him that he was loved. “I think it will take time for them to find each other, but Lucien is good, and Jord better. Aimerick’s betrayal was his own doing, and Jord knows that, even if he also knows Aimerick felt forced into it. You did what you had to.”

Damen took Laurent’s hands in his own then, and kissed the backs of each one before turning them over and kissing his palms.

“You are a good man, Laurent,” Damen said softly. “Don’t let being king make you feel as if you must sacrifice that—the opposite is true. Now,” Damen reclined on the bed, slowly so his vision didn’t spin. “Come back to bed and rest properly before you freeze."

* * *

For Vere to be led as the Veretians intended, Laurent would have to give up being a good man. Vere was a historically unjust and conniving land. Perhaps Auguste would have done things differently, but even Laurent’s Father, King Aleron, had been a cold, deceptive king. To attack someone in parlay was not warfare, it was cowardice. Laurent had once acted similarly in a fight with Damen, pulling a knife when their brawl had been a spar of swords. Vere was notorious for terrible men taking the lead.

It was why Laurent could justify his desire to keep his bloodline at bay, to end it at himself. There was no one ordained to the right of the throne, but when his union was sanctioned with Damen, then a good man had a chance to inherit Vere if Laurent failed to be /better/.

He could probably be better, but much like the last time he’d approached something with a ‘probably’, he would need Damen’s help to overcome. And Damen would be there. That, Laurent had confidence in when he lacked it in himself.

“What I did to Aimerick was the only course of action he deserved,” Laurent did mutter. “He did what he had to do.”

Without another word towards any of that, and completely ignoring the measure of a man he was, Laurent moved back into the bed, bringing the sheet to cover Damen up with him. He would have liked to go for a walk, to go for a ride even, but he would not leave Damen’s side as he had yesterday. Not until he was healed.

“You never should have stood,” Laurent did point out as he slipped into a comfortable position again. Laurent somehow had ended up as the only one naked, which was terribly new to him, and a complete juxtaposition to how he felt things should be - to how things had been. It was the second time Laurent had been made to feel like a pet today.

But he did not move to change it.

* * *

Damen was still feeling the effects of his standing, so he could only nod sadly as Laurent pointed it out. He wasn’t used to being…weak. Damen didn’t really do things with weakness. And while he was tempted to push his limits and show Laurent he could care for himself, he knew that he had done enough pushing yesterday. He could feel every muscle he’d used wrestling.

So he reclined, letting out a sigh. It wasn’t fair to feel so sore after just one day of anything. He took Laurent into his arms, thankful for the sheet, and for Laurent's body heat.

“I did not think I would truly be in bed all day,” Damen murmured, closing his eyes. His fingers trailed over Laurent’s body under the silk, but the heaviness from standing wasn’t leaving him. He nuzzled Laurent, trying to regain his energy. “But that has exhausted me like a week in the saddle.”

Damen sighed again, burrowing in.

“I think…I think I need to sleep again,” Damen said, annoyed at himself. "Perhaps I’ll be able to emerge for dinner? I don’t want to be here all day.” He couldn’t imagine regaining enough energy to do that, though.

“You don’t have to stay with me,” he murmured a moment later, tracing his finger up Laurent's spine. “It might be good for you to appear in the kingdom today—who knows what they think of me.” He didn’t want to think about it.

“Don’t feel as if you must keep me company.” He kissed Laurent’s forehead. “I may be able to survive a few hours yet, should you depart from me."

* * *

And Damen /should/ sleep again. He needed rest much more than Laurent did. If either of them made an appearance today, it should be Laurent, but that would only be if he left his chambers. There were things he could do today, things he could have finished in the hours Damen slept...but that was if he rose from the bed.

He should be king today - was /expected/ to be king today, but time with Damen sounded so much better.

It /had/ been three months.

“I will stay by your side today, if only to show you what an hindrance your being ill is.” It was Laurent’s usual style of joking - the truth masked with good nature. “The whole kingdom will lack in your luck to have me, because you decided to go and get yourself poisoned by an old, cockless man.”

Laurent craned his neck to give Damen a soft kiss, certain he knew it was merely a joke. For now. Tomorrow, Laurent would begin to actually complain. They were finally back together, and Damen was bedridden. His council would start to suffer if this continued.

“I want you well,” Laurent said more seriously, pushing his hand under the fabric of Damen’s chiton to touch warm skin. “And I want you nude.”

* * *

  
Damen smiled softly into the kiss, but he was barely able to keep his eyes open now. He wanted to lie with Laurent for the rest of the day and soak in what precious time they had together, but he was also so, so tired.

“You want me nude?” Damen purred, feeling for the string of his chiton. He maneuvered himself to sit up again and the fabric fell loose at his shoulders before falling away in a silk puddle he quickly tossed off the bed. “Like this?”

He bedded down again, pulling Laurent to his chest for a warm embrace. The wind was still howling out there, and he wouldn’t allow Laurent to get cold while he was here. That, and he loved the feeling of tangling up in Laurent, of holding him close like no one else was permitted.

“You know I adore you,” Damen murmured in a sleepy voice. “You always care for me.”

He thought to say something more, but sleep came upon him abruptly, and Damen’s jaw fell slightly slack, his weight pressing into Laurent but not crushing. Even in sleep he was careful.

* * *

Laurent knew Damen well enough to get /that/, at least. He’d felt much too uncomfortable being the only one in the nude then, felt it wasn’t /right/. Now, he has all the same channels to comfort as Damen did, their skin pressed together, warm and intimate and—

Slightly suffocating.

With similar muscles to Damen - albeit smaller - in his chest, Laurent supposed he did stand for a good pillow, but he found it odd that Damen would opt for him over the down pillows provided from the finest Veretian craftsman. Laurent supposed he did do the same every night they were together....

Well, Damen had him successfully pinned down anyway.

Even being the size he was compared to Damen, Laurent took up a defensive curve to his body, resting his chin on Damen’s head, minding that he didn’t stick his knees into Damen’s abdomen. This was Laurent being as thoughtful as he could before he slipped into something comforting for Damen, comfortable for himself.

He had known Damen’s trip here would be difficult, had known of the steps that must be taken, and knew there were many more to come, but he would not let anyone touch Damen again. Not as they had yesterday. It wouldn’t happen again.


	14. Part II: The Hot Springs (8.3.20)

Damen woke several hours later, groggy and displeased. His body was awake, but heavy. His eyes were heavier still. He groaned softly, then realized that Laurent was still there with him. He hadn’t left. For some reason that made Damen feel much better about everything—it always felt like if he didn’t focus on every moment with Laurent, he would lose him forever.

“You’re here,” he said softly, stretching up to get a proper look at his beloved. He tipped his head up and caught Laurent in a sweet kiss, sleepy and half awake. The covers were the perfect amount of warm, the kind that made him pleasantly drowsy despite how much he had slept.

A few moments later and Damen had worked his way higher up on the bed to rest his head against the pillows and let out a sigh. They day still wasn’t over. He couldn’t tell what time it was because the windows were shuttered, but he could tell he hadn’t slept the rest of the day and the night away.

“Would you help me to the baths?” Damen asked with a yawn. “I feel as if I’ve been in the field a week. I need hot water and lots of sponging.” He smiled gently. “I’m quite tired of sleeping."

* * *

Laurent, as promised, did not go back to sleep. He stayed awake, comfortably alert in the quiet of their chambers. He wished he had brought a book to bed, but the quiet had allowed him to think for a while. About things he /wanted/ to think about. And some things he didn’t, but wasn’t that the manner of his life?

He thought of this moment with Damen, how strange it was that it existed, that it had ever been allowed to happen. He thought about Damen’s skin, the sun in Ios that allowed it to get such a way. Damen was always so warm, especially now, under the sheets, still working drugs out of his system.

He was lucky Damen awoke when he did, just as the fondness and warmth ebbed away and the more unwanted thoughts of those drug, of kingship and so on set in.

“I’m here,” Laurent confirmed with a fond smile, a soft kiss. He quite liked the ability to just fall into that - intimacy.

“Can you make it further than the baths?” Laurent asked, mindful of Damen’s state, but hoping to get him some fresh air - a little Veretian adventure. He would not let Damen freeze. “Perhaps onto Ven? Just a few paces out of the palace. I could keep you upright."

* * *

Damen wasn’t sure what strength he had regained, but he was certain he could power through anything if it meant having the chance to ride horseback with Laurent, together in one saddle. For a man whose betrothed did not particularly enjoy fucking, it was about as close as he could hope for in the immediate future.

“I think I can do that,” Damen assured him. “As long as I have a very thick cloak.”

He moved to sit up properly, kissing Laurent’s shoulder as he did so. Spying one of his clothing trunks, he moved to the edge of the bed. He was uncertain for a moment, but then moved to his feet, testing his ability to stand.

Damen wasn’t sure why he expected pain when he had only been drugged, but a few steps reminded him of his soreness as he moved over to the trunk. At least the room wasn’t spinning this time.

He opened his trunk and pulled out a fresh wool chiton, and a pair of thick stockings that ended at his calf. He hadn’t worn them on the ride in, and had regretted it immensely in his fur-ined boots. He plucked his boots from where they sat nearby, and returned to bed to dress.

“I’m sore,” he explained. “Everything feels stiff. Bathing will be a good close to the day, I think.”

He began to dress, moving slowly. “Where will we go?"

* * *

Laurent watched Damen as he dressed, as if only to be sure he was still standing and remained doing so. Only when Damen was fully dressed did Laurent go about dressing himself. He took a few shortcuts, but only because he was well covered with his own cloak. He didn't need one so thick as Damen wore, but he did it for the excuse not to take a precious half hour from Damen’s recovery.

Especially because he truly was about to plop him on a horse. A horse that was currently being prepared for their departure, so perhaps even sooner than Damen anticipated.

“This ride will be unpleasant for you,” Laurent warned him, clasping Damen’s cloak about his neck securely. “But you have put me on horseback feeling stiff and sore, so consider it recompense.” He smiled, ran his hands up and Damen’s strong biceps. A few times.

“It will be short ride though. And worth it. I promise.”

He led Damen out of their chambers, past the guard Jord had appointed at his door.

“Keep watch here,” Laurent ordered, leading Damen down the hall. “We will not need accompaniment on this trip.” Jord would disagree, but Laurent was King. He did not care what Jord thought in this case.

They moved down to the stables with little interruption from Veretians aside from those greeting them with bows. It was the Akielons that greeted their king heartily, with grand camaraderie and large gestures. They greeted Laurent as well, but in a much more reserved fashion, he would note.

* * *

Damen followed Laurent through the halls, but their pace was slow. He found he was getting winded very quickly, and wanted to conserve his energy for the ride. It would not be pleasant, that was for sure. But he hoped to hold Laurent close to make up for it.

For now, he tried to stay in good energy while greeting subjects Veretian and Akielon. Akielons were more jovial in greeting, and they had to pause several times for Damen to speak with his people, which was difficult after awhile.

They did finally reach the stables to find Ven already tacked and waiting for them.

“I need just a moment,” Damen said. He’d been anticipating having time to sit while Ven was being readied. So he took a seat on the mounting block, hunched forward over his knees to breathe. His legs were quivering slightly, begging him not to continue using them.

“May I ask where we are going?” Damen asked after a moment, realizing Laurent hadn’t answered him. He stood, deciding it was better to go ahead and ride instead of waiting around to become more tired. He stepped up onto the mounting block and took a breath before carefully putting a leg over Ven’s back and slipping on. She had a fuzzy winter coat, and he was thankful for it as his bare knees nestled against her. Riding bareback was not difficult for Damen, but he wasn’t so sure how it would be today.

“Hurry, before Nikri has a chance to convince her to buck me off."

* * *

“You may ask,” Laurent confirmed, participating in his daily ritual of giving Ven treats she should not be eating. If Nikri had his head stuck out of his stall, he would have also received a few. “But to expect an answer is an entirely different beast.”

He mounted behind Damen, arms around his waist, thighs right around Damen, acting as a brace of sort to keep Damen upright. He would greatly benefit from their destination if he could make it there.

“Out of the gates and towards the northwest mountain face,” Laurent instructed, pointing to the tip of the mountain visible above the walls of Arles. “Less than a half an hour’s ride. We will be there before the cold can solidify you.”

And it was cold. The wind would blow them harshly outside the walls, would whip at their cheeks and nose, and the snow would bite and chap, but it would be worth it. This /was/ Arles being thrust into the winter months. These were the months they would truly benefit from a union with Ios for /many/ reasons.

“Straight back, my love,” Laurent coaxed as they moved through the city of Arles. “We will be there in no time.”

* * *

  
Damen seldom felt like a princess, but he had a feeling that this was why storytellers spun tales about handsome princes sweeping them up and riding off to be married. He and Laurent had been coupled for well over a year now, yet Damen’s heart started pounding in his chest when Laurent mounted behind him. He was hyperaware of Laurent’s thighs bracing either side of him, of his strong arms wrapped around his middle.

He gave a gentle squeeze of his legs and Ven responded easily, collecting herself at the bit without much effort from Damen. Laurent had spent a lot of time with her—she had been an easy ride when Damen picked her for Laurent, but she had grown in her role.

Posture had been ingrained in him while in the saddle, but as they went through the city he felt himself leaning into Laurent for support. People stared, but Damen had the feeling they were more shocked to see Damen with the reins and not Laurent, especially while riding Laurent’s horse.

As soon as they left the city, the wind was relentless upon them. Damen’s cheeks turned red in the cold, the snow biting at him like mini icy daggers as they rode toward the mountain face. He certainly hoped they wouldn’t be climbing this mountain.

“Keep close,” Damen called over the wind, leaning back into Laurent for a bit more support as they headed across a field. “Put your hands under my cloak to keep them warm."

* * *

Once free from the eyes of their people, in sweet isolation on the roads, Laurent had no issue with leaning against Damen, hands under his cloak as requested. Laurent didn’t have to worry so much about the wind, as Damen’s whole body was acting as a buffer between him and it. Every so often, Laurent would have to peek out around Damen to tap his arm, steering him as he steered the horse, but those were his only real moments facing the wind until they got to their destination.

As promised, it did not take long. After a few moments on a dirt path through thick trees, they came upon the hot spring at the base of the mountain, steam thick and rising like smoke from it in the cold air. There were quite a few of these around Vere, but seldom around Arles that were not used for the heated water in the baths. This one was just far enough out that it couldn’t be bothered.

For Laurent, this was the perfect weather for the hot springs. The wind was blocked by the trees, and only a dusting of snow could make it through to them. And they were alone, and soon, they would be warm.

Laurent dismounted easily, waiting for Damen to do the same so he could assist him as he needed. Then, after a few bits of sweets for Ven, Laurent tied her to a tree and patted her flank, assuring her they would be back.

“You will have to undress before you can climb in,” Laurent pointed out dryly, watching his poor Akielon lover in his thick cloak and stockings, ill and shaking in the early winter weather.

* * *

Damen didn’t think anything would be worth this trip in the cold. Perhaps Laurent was trying to kill him, because he could feel his lungs and nose clogging, his body rapidly weakening as the wind sucked the life from him. He would never get used to this horrible weather. Ios was where he belonged, where the sun was warm even in winter.

He was quite certain his hands had frozen by the time they arrived at their destination. He saw the steam first and thought perhaps there was a fire up ahead, though the smoke looked too faint for that.

When he realized what it was, he sighed with relief. He had heard of the hot springs of Vere, but had never visited one. He hoped they were as wonderful as everyone claimed.

Damen had to use Laurent for help dismounting, and stood on wobbly legs for several moments while he coughed wetly. HIs body seemed to be failing him. He took Laurent’s arm and hobbled toward the spring, his legs stiff and sore already.

“Yes, yes, I have bathed before,” Damen muttered. His hand was shaking wildly as he pulled the string on his chiton, then began slipping out of his boots and stockings. It would not be fun to put them on again when they inevitably got cold.

He removed his cloak last, his teeth chattering uncontrollably as he hurried for the water. He was not waiting for Laurent to undress.

The hot water was a blessing as he dipped his feet inside, then slid the rest of the way in. His skin burned at the sudden change in temperature, but he didn’t care. Everything felt /so/ much better. His lungs cleared with a few more coughs, and his nose stopped feeling like it was cracking from the inside out.

“While this is a pleasant surprise,” he said around still-chattering teeth, “We could have had a very similar experience in the baths.” He wasn’t trying to be bitter—he did appreciate leaving the palace—but it was freezing!

* * *

Laurent took the time to afford Damen a few moments of modesty as he undressed in the cold, opting to pick through the basket at Ven’s side for the shower cloths they had been provided for their trip. It was also an excellent place to keep their clothing from freezing over while they relaxed. He gathered up Damen’s clothes for him, removed the basket from Ven’s side and stuffed what clothing he could fit into it. Then he let Ven drop her head and showed her to a little patch of grass around her tree before he made his own way over to the baths.

He had been naked in the plain air for much longer than Damen had, but he showed no sign of discomfort as he moved over to the spring, stepping into the waters with a slight hiss, but otherwise, he sunk into the steaming pool in a fluid motion, comfortable.

“Can you not /pretend/ to love Vere a bit more than you do?” Laurent asked dryly, teasingly, moving through the water and over to Damen to wrap his arms around the Akielon’s large frame in an attempt to warm him. It was almost comical.

“This is beautiful,” Laurent told him pointedly. “And its quiet, and it's far. Its the closest we’ve had to adventure together since Ios.”

He would warm up. He would be fine.

"Auguste and I used to sneak out here all the time,” Laurent shared with Damen, still trying to warm him up. "He would bring noble sons from other countries, and we would climb atop each other’s shoulders and try to push each other into the water. Like…suspended wrestling, I presume."

* * *

It was beautiful. The longer Damen was able to warm up, the more beauty he seemed to see. Laurent, mostly. He looked like a true king of Vere, pale skin and blond hair, the snowy landscape behind his nude from. He seemed unaffected by the cold, as though this was any other pleasant day in spring or fall.

“I love Vere for what it has given me,” Damen replied with a smile. He gave Laurent a kiss, pulling him closer to seek out his warmth. It seemed backwards that Damen would be the one pulling Laurent to him for warmth.

The silence was tranquil. Damen couldn’t hear any noises of the city, and it calmed him. It was rather like their adventures together, away from towns and meetings and kingdoms. It was just Laurent and Damen, two kings stealing away.

He laughed at the story. “Ios has beaches, you remember,” Damen chuckled. “I have played in water before.” But he noted that Laurent had only mentioned Auguste bringing guests. Laurent would have been too young for courting officially at his age, but Damen had been introduced to his first prospective queen at the age of ten. They had played games of chase in the gardens.

“Sometimes I forget we are not already married,” Damen said absently, looking up at the towering pines. “And sometimes I forget we did not have a proper courtship.” He chuckled softly to himself. “I had always tried so hard to perfect my abilities in that arena, so that I would be able to sway the one I finally wanted.” He smoothed his hands over Laurent’s hips.

“A waste.” He kissed Laurent again, more tenderly this time. “I could have read so many books. Learned so many things that might have impressed you.

* * *

“You found other ways to impress me,” Laurent gave Damen, pressing flush against him, tried to see him through their mingling breath and the steam between them. There were a lot of temperatures at play. “Principally, you wouldn’t /die/…” And Laurent had never met someone with equal audacity to his in that regard. It truly was impressive.

“And I think we had a…suitable courting,” Laurent continued, choosing his words wisely, not wanting to reopen any old scars. “We travelled together, overturned a tyrant together, went to war together, you gave me the gift of a fort, you properly bedded me, you saved my life…”

It had been a memorable courting to say the very least.

“You mastered courting me, Damianos.” Laurent pressed a kiss to Damen’s cold nose. Seeing him surrounded by the cold, by the blues and grays of Vere was almost unfitting. Damen should be wreathed in golds, in red, in suffocating warmth. He seemed so very out of place here, as Akielons were meant to be.

He would adjust. They would all adjust.

* * *

Damen laughed, grateful that he was able to laugh about it all now. He had thought he was losing Laurent for the time they were at war against Kastor. He’d been certain Laurent would win the fight and return to Arles without looking back. Back then Damen had been sure there was little hope for them, and he had never foreseen this.

He smiled when Laurent kissed him, wrinkling his nose with a grin.

“I could have done much better had I been able to court you traditionally,” he said, resting their foreheads together. “You would be difficult, and would probably find every excuse to shut me out. But I would charm Auguste first—perhaps he would be intrigued that I was not interested in him and I could use that to my advantage. Do you think he would like me enough to persuade you to come here with us?”

He drew his lower lip between his teeth, as though Auguste might appear right then and give an answer. Of course it was a delicate topic, but Damen did…wonder if Auguste would have liked him.

“Or would he have been too protective of you and seen only the side of me that bedded half the nobility in the region?”

Damen wouldn’t blame him for that. He would have been fiercely protective of Laurent too. He was, now. Laurent didn’t need it, but Damen wanted so badly for him to feel free to be himself.

* * *

Laurent spoke of Auguste comfortably from time to time, but not enough for it not to shock him when /Damen/ brought him up so casually. Laurent didn’t stiffen of jolt as much as he just opened his eyes from where he had been resting against Damen’s forehead, enjoying the warmth he still gave off.

“Auguste would have liked you,” Laurent confirmed, still standing by that statement as he had all those months ago. The summer palace and his stay there all felt like a dream, but the sentiment remained even now. “He would have had to sift through the Veretian attitude towards Akielons, and would need to approve of you through various tasks, but when he saw how and who you were, he’d have no qualms with your being mine.”

Auguste had, of course, batted away many suitors of Laurent’s when he was younger, assuring every one that Laurent was to young to be worried with such ideas, that he needed the time to be a child— though Laurent never really took that time. Laurent had started challenging Auguste’s friends to duels at the age of five, training under Auguste and then trying to impress him. Auguste had wanted Laurent to be allowed a childhood that Laurent never allowed himself.

“He would have seen how much I adored you - in my own way - and he would give his blessing. Because you are a good man, Damianos. A good man just like he was.”

Laurent started up at Damen, took him all in, thinking of how Auguste would have taken Damen on some long ride out to the mountains, would have duelled him for the right to court Laurent. They would have gone drinking, boar hunting, and Auguste would have, at the end of it all, told Damen, _“You deserve him.”_ And then he would have said, _“Best of luck.”_

At least, that’s what Laurent truly believed.

He missed his brother dearly.

Laurent nuzzled Damen’s jaw with a soft touch of his nose before straightening up, his fingertips resting on Damen’s forearms. Steam rose from his fine fingertips, from Damen’s strong arms where he held him.

“I would have tried to drown you out here,” Laurent did assure Damen with a soft smile, the humour of that honesty getting to even him. “I was convinced besting all of my suitors would impress him. And I tried.”

And then, he was gone.

Laurent couldn’t think about it.

* * *

Damen was quiet while Laurent spoke of his brother. He knew how difficult the subject could be. Damen wished he’d had the chance to meet Auguste properly, but all he remembered were dark blue eyes beneath a helmet, a snarl much like Laurent’s. He remembered the slice of the blade in his shoulder, and the jerk of his sword as it entered Auguste’s body. He remembered the soft sounds of a dying prince, the silence that overcame the crowd that had gathered.

He smiled, taking Laurent a little tighter in his arms. “I think I would have pretended to drown,” he answered thoughtfully. “To get a panic out of you, to see if Vere’s princeling had any feelings for me at all.” He kissed Laurent’s cheek, grateful. They really were so lucky to have each other.

Laurent’s compliments had not evaded him, and he felt a surge of warmth, of love. It amazed him how he could care for another person as much as he did Laurent. Damen would do just about anything for him, and in a few short months he would promise to in front of their combined kingdoms.

“Have you ever entertained any serious suitors?” Damen asked, realizing they had never spoken of it. Damen obviously had Jokaste, but he wasn’t sure his father would have actually approved her for marriage. Kastor had made that decision for himself, likely a vengeful act for his mother’s illegitimacy of title. And because Jokaste could sway any man if given enough time.

“I can’t imagine Torvald was the only one who thought you wanted him.” Damen still disliked Torvald somewhat, only because he had seen him kissing Laurent on that balcony. And honestly, Damen had never seen Laurent act like that with him except when he was pretending to be a pet at the inn. Of course Damen knew if Laurent had ever tried to seduce him in such a way it would be fake, but still!

“You may claim to be icy all you want, but I know you have a heart like everyone else. Surely someone caught your eye, even if you pretended not to requite it."

* * *

Damen had lots of lovely little things to say, which Laurent appreciated. It coaxed him from his own self-inflicted negativity, spreading the warmth within him that only Damen claimed Laurent even had. The conversation still revolved around his past, around Auguste, around the exact time where Laurent was old enough to be without him, but he felt more confident in talking about it with Damen there, saying such sweet things to and about him. Laurent loosened up, let himself relax, went back to his usual self.

“I’ve entertained all of them,” Laurent smirked, a little wave of his hand that was almost regal. “Every kingdom has something to offer, Damen, and you cannot forget it. And I am told, when you look as I do, you must use those looks for good.” And for Vere, any help they could get could be considered good.

Laurent had never been able to meaningfully entertain anyone. When he had met his first suitor, he was too young to even really understand the purpose of it all. From there, he’d begun to understand things, but it seemed just as frivolous to him, and just as he had started to warm up to the idea of courting, they had gone to war, and he had lost Auguste. That had clouded his mind for some time, and then it remained clouded when he had sought care and comfort from his uncle. When he found his own way around that, he began to realize that courting, like love, was just as frivolous as he had thought it as a boy, when all he had wanted to do was impress his brother and his friends.

“No one has ever caught my eyes as you have,” Laurent promised Damen, running his fingers through Damen’s cold curls, surprised at just how much he was unaffected by the steam. He was too damn tall. “And I fear you may try to kill any suitor that ever did. I have seen your jealousy, Damianos.”

He had watched Damen break bonds and incite riots over men touching Laurent, and watched him pull his weapon at the sacred Kingsmeet. And oh, the way Damen had looked at Torvald. Laurent could see it coursing through him, though then, he had not yet known what to identify that response as. As he got to know Damen, he learned to identify those responses, those reactions, those emotions.

“And I trust you not to tell anyone that about this heart you say I have. It is only for you, and they need to know not of it.”

* * *

Laurent could certainly use those looks to get whatever he wanted. Nikandros had gone after Damen countless times, armed with just that fact. The closer they became, Damen was less and less able to put his kingdom before Laurent. If it came down to it, he would choose his betrothed. He had lived a life without Akielos, but could not imagine one without Laurent.

It was true, Damen had a jealous streak. More than a streak, perhaps. It was because Damen still thought that maybe someone else would come along and catch Laurent’s eyes, steal his heart. He knew full well he was the only one who had attracted Laurent this way, but Damen had said the same to a daughter of a Kyros when he was nineteen. Laurent was still young, and he was inexperienced.

Damen had been with enough people to know what he wanted, and how he wanted it. Laurent challenged him and kept him in line. He knew from experience that he needed no one else.

But what if he bored Laurent? What if one day Laurent met someone who gave him what he never knew he needed until that moment?

“I do not agree,” Damen said with a shake of his head. “I think the kingdom should know your true heart. Vere should love you as I do, not fear you. Of course I understand things had to be this way, but now you are king, my love. No one is coming for your throne.”

He kissed Laurent’s forehead. “And if they are, they will have to go through me and the might of Akielos first."

* * *

And history had proven thrice now that Vere was no match for Akielos - once in the Great War that killed his father and brother, again under Laurent and Damen’s lead against his uncle, and a third time in Laurent’s undoing to the Akielon king. Laurent had no doubts that, with the support of Akielon, he would be unstoppable. /They/ would be unstoppable.

Unless, of course, the majority of Akielos did not accept him as their king, which was quite likely, and understandably so.

There was still so much work ahead of them.

“I’ll not shock my country any more than I have already,” said Laurent, his fingers slipping from Damen’s arms and into the water where he trailed them along the warm surface of the opaque water of the springs.

He splashed a little of the water toward Damen’ only high enough to splash his abdomen, his chest.

“Not yet, anyway. I /was/ thinking of wearing a fine dress to our union.” Laurent had not been thinking that, but it was so entertaining to watch Damen parse our if he was telling the truth.

* * *

Damen was about to protest that now was as good a time as ever to shock their nations, but then Laurent was talking about wearing a dress to their wedding. Damen squinted at him, trying to read if he was being truthful. He wouldn’t put it past Laurent to do that as some kind of political statement or something equally dramatic.

While he couldn’t imagine Laurent in a dress, he could imagine him in draping white silk that might as well be one. He would look beautiful on their wedding day, whatever he wore.

“How many times must I tell you, it is called a chiton,” Damen returned in Akielon, a smirk on his lips.

“Dress or chiton, it does not matter so long as I can lift the fabric and mount you the moment our ceremony has ended,” Damen teased, splashing back at Laurent.

His smile faded momentarily when he realized that…he might have to do just that. In front of the court—the Veretian court at least. Laurent had alluded t it before, but never said it directly.

“Will we have to do that?” Damen asked, unsure. “Consummate before the court, I mean.” He understood the importance of it, though it didn’t seem relevant to their marriage. It had been loosely practiced in Akielos long ago, but was never required of royalty, only in cases like this one where the other country deemed it necessary. His feelings didn’t matter, it was a matter of political balance.

“I would rather not,” he said, hands moving back and forth in the water. “But I understand if we must."

* * *

Laurent saw the moment Damen had the realisation and followed right thorough with his thinking, knowing too well what worried Damen. He couldn’t help but smirk at the expression that crossed Damen’s features. The dimples of his smile faded, his jaw slackened a bit, his eyebrows creased and he was, without a doubt, thinking about the consummation.

It did not bother Laurent as much as it did Damen, despite what logic may point to. When it came to their consummation, the coupling would only be a task at that point, a means to an end to have their marriage recognised by the courts. It was an antiquated tradition, one that had been respected for years. Merely a obligation and that was all. Laurent welcomed it, even in the position of a woman that he took, because he knew his court would /hate/ it.

“The expectations have not changed in the past few months, Damianos,” Laurent chuckled with a shake of his head. “The answer to that question /every time you ask it/ will be yes. We must. Or the court will scheme against our illegitimate union.”

And they both knew that would be fact.

“Surely you do not dread the thought /so/ much,” Laurent purred, fully teasing Damen now. It was so fun to do. “Yes, there will be many eyes, but it will be just like your time at the coupling fire in Vask. Or in your realm of the brothels.” Which Laurent had learned he spent more time in than Damen, strangely enough. “You performed wonderfully with Ancel in front of many of the same eyes. Surely you can look me in the eye as you did then, and forget the world for...five minutes?” As if Damen could ever last such a short amount of time.

* * *

Damen liked to believe he could convince the courts to ignore that rule. What he had with Laurent was sacred to him, and he didn’t want to spoil it. Worse, he didn’t want to share it with both kingdoms, an image everyone could watch and see over and over again in their minds. Especially with Laurent in the woman’s position, he loathed to think what people would say. He didn’t want anyone to think anything less of his husband-to-be.

He rolled his eyes at mention of Vask and and the brothel. Princes didn’t visit brothels, he’d been presented with the most attractive slaves in Akielos since he could remember.

But mention of Ancel and he slapped the water, turning away in anger. Comparing the events with Ancel and the consummation was a good one, but that was exactly why he didn’t want to do it. He couldn’t face Laurent at the moment, because he was hurt that he had brought up a moment like that. He’d been forced to endure that horrible affair _because_ of Laurent.

“I did not forget the world then,” Damen growled. “I was publicly humiliated, and shamed, by _you._ ”

He crossed his arms over himself, still stinging.

Damen scrubbed his face in his hands, moving to his knees in the spring so that the hot water enveloped him up to his chin. He was trying not to be angry, but how could Laurent be so blind? To bring up his total humiliation in the gardens, something he had made just a bit easier for himself by locking eyes with a beautiful face he’d hated at the time.

“That,” he said coldly. “Was not a performance. You humiliated me in a way I can’t….a way I can’t undo. What those people saw was an act of violation I can’t recover from in their eyes. Fear me as a king, but all they will see is a pet sucking me off against my will."

* * *

Water from Damen’s little fit splashed Laurent right in the face, acting as the only barrier between him and an eye roll at Damen’s response. It had been ages ago, the two of them different people. They’d spoken of it before in the privacy of royal chambers, locked together in intimacy, and it had not resulted in such a response. But Damen was /very/ serious, and quite hurt at the mention of that day! It had not been Laurent’s attention.

“Are we to completely ignore our past?” Laurent asked, clipped and pointed, embarrassed that he has ruined the moment and trying to support why he had. He’d gotten better about his pushing, but sometimes, Laurent was still very much a twenty-one year old, no matter how above it he thought he was. “Truly, Damianos. Get up. You are being ridiculous.”

He was not used to coldness from Damen, and he had just /responded/. Damen portrayed such bitterness in a way that felt personal, in a way with a bite that Laurent had not been on the receiving end of in some time. His defences said he needed to prepare then to be in the right, to stand strong, told him that Damen would finally see the mistake he’d made and leave, and Laurent needed to prepare for that.

But Laurent didn’t listen to his own defences.

“No one saw it as an act of violation,” Laurent tried again, a little softer, focusing his attention on trying to fix what he’d done. “Pets play games. They act ways that people want to see. And my people don’t see—“

Laurent shook his head, raised his hands in the air.

“No one in Vere could fathom that such an act was against your will,” Laurent said, really trying here. “If you had been bested by Govart, /then/ they would have see it in such a way. But to have someone’s mouth used /on you/ is not something they would see as truly forced.”

He just couldn’t get out an apology, standing by what he had said now.

He eyed Damen’s back, now turned to him, scars peeking out above the surface of the water. Despite what he had said in support of himself, he supposed he constantly ignored what he had done in his past two Damen, those scars in particular. It seemed hypocritical now.

Laurent reached out into the space between them, touched his fingertips to the thick, raised hatch lines over Damen’s back, slowly taking a step forward as his hand pressed flat to the warm skin there.

“No one remembers Ancel over this,” Laurent said honestly, a little detached then, hand still gently rested between Damen’s shoulder blades.

* * *

Damen sucking a breath and held it to prevent himself from snapping. Of course their past wasn’t going to be ignored, but how dare Laurent bring up Ancel and the gardens in relation to consummating their marriage. He loved Laurent, and his discomfort with consummation was that dozens of eyes would be watching them do it! So he didn’t answer and kept his eyes closed.

“I saw it as an act of violation, because I was not a pet, not truly,” Damen growled. He could hear that he’d made Laurent upset, but didn’t turn around. Laurent still didn’t seem to understood that he’d been free and able to do whatever he wanted during a time where Damen was chained and patronized daily, his resolve tested.

He couldn’t help but flinch when Laurent’s fingers grazed his scars. His fingers were cold, but Laurent also never touched there, so Damen was unused to it. It was true, those scars would damn him for the rest of his days. They were evidence that he had been weak once, and they gave credit to the idea that Laurent had a hold over him that was made of power, not love.

“I know you hate the scars,” Damen said quietly. He turned, staying low in the water as he looped his arms around Laurent’s hips, urging him to sink low with him. It was much warmer this way.

“But they are part of me, and they always will be.” He sighed, disappointed in that fact. He wished they would just heal, or at least not be so prominent.

His lips pressed against Laurent’s warm skin, and his eyes closed. Anger seeped out of him, and he just wanted to be held.

“They don’t hurt,” he murmured, eyes closing. “You don’t need to be so careful with them. You don’t need to avoid them."

* * *

He’d coaxed Damen back to him easily enough, and Laurent hated as much as he loved that it was so easy. One day, he would not be so successful, and he needed to be better before he ever pushed Damen to that place where the act of forgiving Laurent for his tongue would be unforgivable.

“You were not meant to live with these,” Laurent said honestly as he laid his palm flat against Damen’s back, held him close. He could feel the raised skin under his hands. “I can never take them back, and they are...difficult for me to see now with what we are.”

But Laurent had just run right into mentioning Ancel, so he might as well run straight into this as well. Damen’s shame was also his own, and both their shames weighed on them politically. Damen had been shamed by Laurent in Vere’s eyes, but in the cyclical nature of things, those same marks and actions shamed Laurent to Akielos. It was just another thing for them to overcome, something Laurent would have to emotionally detach himself from - like Damen needed to - and move forward.

So he kept his hand pressed to Damen’s back, as much as his fingers twitched to retreat, his arm ached to fall.

Laurent sunk down into the water at Damen’s level, well up to his shoulders in the heated water now, the ends of his hair curling with the weight of the water that clung there. He was made to face Damen then, after that little disagreement, and he did so warmly, wanting to act as a lover and not a general in that moment.

“Do they still hurt?” Laurent asked, addressing the scars directly for the first time since their stay in Sicyon. “This-“ He started, bringing his fingertips through the water to touch to the angry scar at his own shoulder, “—still aches from time to time. With the cold.”

* * *

Damen was content to listen to the sound of Laurent’s voice and the gurgling of the spring around them. He wished they could camp here, spend a night away from the city and pretend they had gotten lost of caught up in the storm. But they were unprepared for a long stay, and not far enough away to truly claim they had lost the way.

He kept his eyes closed as Laurent moved to him, happy to just continue soaking. He was tired, and arguing even briefly was taking away what little energy he had replenished here.

Damen kissed Laurent’s scar when it was mentioned, then nuzzled the spot with tender care. “So it must ache constantly here,” he teased lightly, turning his head to kiss Laurent’s jaw. He hated being angry with him. He loved Laurent so much.

“I am sore faster and longer where my back is concerned,” Damen replied. “But it has healed well, thanks to you.” Laurent could have left him with his wounds untreated, and he wasn’t sure he would have proper use of his arms had he not been given salves from Paschal at Laurent’s request.

“I must stretch before swordfighting—I usually forget,” he chuckled. “But it doesn’t cause me much pain. A few lashes were particularly deep, and I feel those if I curl during riding or to throw a spear, but it is minimal.”

His lips traveled over Laurent’s neck, trying to settle him. “They did not even hurt when they were against the rough stone while you rode my cock.”

He could only be sweet for so long before alluding to something sexual.

* * *

Laurent honestly went red at the mention of his care, which he would later blame on the heat. It did so affect him in similar ways to embarrassment. He still had not fully reasoned why he’d ordered Paschal to care for Damen then, what exactly his thoughts were. He remembered thinking of opening the wounds back up a few times, thought of keeping Damen alive to better serve him on the journey south, but even then, he had not been convinced he would bring the then-slave along. It wasn’t until the idiot had saved Laurent’s life that he’d even made /that/ decision.

And look at them now, Damen’s lips on a scar he’d received saving his own damn life, just to be reunited again with the Akielon prince and his forces, to slay his uncle, and to...soon wed the now-king of Akielon. It was still all so strange. For them to rule together with the shame of Vere’s attack on Akielon, the shame of Laurent’s attack on Damen, after all they had been through.

Laurent vaguely wondered if their kingdoms were united on the interest and rumours of their coupling alone. He wondered what they would all have to say about their night at Ravenell, in Sicyan, in the ba—

Oh, Laurent had not even /thought/ of the scars, then!

“Damianos,” he chastised, disbelieving that Damen would even allow such a position were there scars even in question. They could have moved to the bed!

“Perhaps you should begin stretching before our fucking, then,” Laurent landed on, fingers at his temples as he shook his head. “I would hate to get better at it than you, as I am sure I already am with a sword now.”

* * *

Damen chuckled. "I have years on you, Laurent. What will you do, throw more sand at me? Pull a knife from your boot?” He grinned, only teasing. Laurent was good with a sword, but Damen practiced relentlessly back home. Better yet, he’d been teaching Korus how to wield a sword, so his form was even better than usual. He would have to train with Laurent once his strength returned.

“Perhaps you should give me an idea of how often you expect to be fucked, my king,” Damen purred. “Then I will know how often to stretch.”

While Damen did think of sex often (every time he saw Laurent’s pale skin exposed more than usual, looked into his eyes, or watched him lick his lips), he enjoyed these moments almost more. Holding his beloved close, comforting while being comforted.

“What happens tomorrow?” Damen asked, resting his cheek against the top of Laurent’s head, arms wrapping tighter around him. His exhaustion was finally catching up to him. “We must plan our competition for the court. And discuss our wedding. And though I hate it, I must decide on a date to return to Ios."

* * *

Laurent had a few other Veretian warfare tricks up his sleeve, but he also had months of training at his back, and a few less injuries hindering his movements. He could take Damen now, he thought, years of training aside. He wouldn’t go the rest of his life without /trying/ anyway.

Another time.

Laurent dismissed the bit about fucking, knowing when to and when not to reply to Damen’s snide comments about it. He couldn’t encourage Damen thinking like that or they would never get anything done.

“Tomorrow,” Laurent sighed, thinking over their little plan, “We should announce the competition as soon as we can. It will get the council of our backs and enthralled with each other so we will have the /time/ to plan our wedding.”

That was the easy part of the question. It was much more difficult to talk about the second part, to make such a plan for that.

“I’m sure Nikandros is getting on just fine in Ios,” Laurent tried to dissuade Damen, and because he was who he was, he slid his hands up Damen’s chest, up and around to loop his arms about Damen’s neck, pulling him in close, distracting him from the conversation. “We can talk about it later. It’s not important now.”

* * *

Damen couldn’t imagine going to court tomorrow, but he supposed it would be fun to see the traitorous Veretian court in a battle of vanity. It really was a perfect idea for them, a competition that would have them all clamoring for the prize to gain favor in the eyes of Vere. The Akielons would probably cock their brows and wonder why it was such a momentous thing to have a king visit. Akielon kings tried to visit each Kyros once a year. 

It was sweet to hear in Laurent’s voice that he didn’t want him to go, but he would have to eventually. 

“Well,” Damen said with a tender kiss to Laurent’s lips. “I /am/ concerned as to how I will get back to Arles in this weather. I feel as if I will freeze before I make it to Ven.”

He sank a little deeper into the water, shivering at the thought alone. Once he left this spring, he didn’t think he’d ever get warm again. 


	15. Part II: An Icy Return (15.3.20)

Laurent made certain that Damen did not freeze on the way back to Ven, once they were both heavily wrapped in their cloaks again, dried save for their hair. Damen’s curls were weighed down with the forming frost of having let his hair touch the water, and Laurent’s was no better. When they rode back into the fort, they were hastily greeted by attendants, handing them proper furs, and when they strode into their chambers, Laurent made sure Damen was sat directly by the fire, warming back up. He shook the ice from Damen’s hair.

Laurent had wanted to stop by and see Auguste, but he could feel Damen’s whole body shuddering with the cold beneath his cloak on the ride back, so he could put it off a day more.

“My council will be furious I let you live,” Laurent murmured, unlacing his boots by the fire to warm his feet. It was not that cold outside, the wind and snow quite manageable, but if Damen was to stay next to the fire, Laurent might as well make himself comfortable.

He stole a fur from the bed, came around behind Damen to wrap it over his broad shoulders, kissing him just at the nape of his neck before dropping down the warmth.

“Perhaps your cock is more proportionate to my body now that you’re so chilled,” Laurent joked with a smooth confidence, as if he had been sitting on that joke for some time and it had landed just as he had hoped. Whatever kept Damen distracted from his talk of leaving could only be seen as a victory in Laurent’s book

* * *

Damen was incredibly happy to be back in their bedchamber. The furs had done nothing to warm him after that freezing ride in the wind and snow. His hair had frozen! Damen’s teeth chattered the whole walk through the palace, and Pallas looked very concerned upon meeting them. He was mostly upset that they had ventured off with no guard—they could have been lost in the snow!

He immediately went to the fire once they were inside, sighing when he finally felt himself thawing in front of the flames. He did not like Arles very much, Laurent was extremely lucky he was loved so dearly. Damen could not wait to be back in the sun.

A hum of appreciation escaped him when Laurent put the fur around his shoulders, but more so for the fond kiss. The lewd joke got a booming laugh from him—Damen was always a bit surprised when Laurent made jokes like that in private.

“You want a cold cock?” he teased, reclining in the furs that were already warm from the fire.

“Come here,” Damen murmured. “Lie with me. Come help me warm up—and you can feel for yourself how small my cock is at the moment."

* * *

Laurent threw a pillow at Damen instead of acquiescing to the request, refusing to turn should his smile give him away. He did not often make Damen laugh with jokes of sexual nature, but when he did, Laurent honestly did feel a spike of pride about it.

“I would never do that to your pride,” Laurent dismissed playfully, shucking off his jacket and throwing it over his clothing chest. Someone had come in and taken their old clothing to wash, had redressed the bed with clean silk sheets and furs. Laurent’s crown had been set aside Damen’s on top of two decorative pillows, moved aside from wherever they had put them so carelessly in hours prior.

Laurent liked a clean space.

“Does your own mind ever astound you?” Laurent asked as he crossed back to Damen, kneeling down into the furs, grateful himself for the fire then. It would be nice until it crossed the threshold of too hot in just a few moments “Your insatiability? I feel as if I must do better to tire you as the Vaskian tribe once did. Your mind needs rest from your own hedonism.”

* * *

Damen rolled to his back, thoroughly warmed by the fire, now basking in it. Firelight made Laurent look even more beautiful, and he was so thankful they had the night to themselves again. The kingdom had not burned down in their absence, and he once more longed to travel with Laurent in secret again, to be his Lamen.

He reached a hand over his head to brush over Laurent’s calf with his knuckles, the backs of his fingers.

“I have been two months without you,” Damen reminded him with a smile. “And you’ve had clothing on for only a handful of hours since I arrived, fewer that I remember.”

He cocked his head, a brow arching. “Does your mind ever astound /you/?” he asked. “Did you desire me when you saw me in your great hall? Do you ever desire me the way I desire you?”

It wasn’t an insult, he was genuinely curious. Laurent was always coaxed with kisses and fond words, where Damen would be just as willing to fuck him if Laurent simply turned around and instructed him to mount. Laurent never seemed to particularly desire sex, and Damen never caught it in his eyes before they were kissing and touching.

“Do you look at me now and think how you may want to touch me?"

* * *

It was a fair and valid question for Damen to ask, so Laurent could not be cross or hurt that he had asked it. Their thinking was so similar, and yet all the same, but when it came to this, Laurent could understand that he presented a strange grey area, unreadable by even the closest in his life. It was not made obvious, Laurent’s own frequency of desire, for even /he/ did not know of it.

So he looked at Damen now with the question in his head, looked Damen over and just paid attention to his thoughts.

Damen was remarkable in the firelight, all bronzed and lit in a gold that no paint could match. He was /large/, as Laurent always liked to note, a man carved in the image of perfection and intimidation from the softest materials known. The flickering light danced in his dark eyes, off the shine of his lips, beckoning Laurent to kiss him, to—

To kiss him and—

And then what?

“You know this is not how my brain works,” Laurent murmured, turning his head for a moment to focus his attention on finding a comfortable spot at Damen’s side.

“I do desire you,” said Laurent, clarifying that as truth, even as he hesitated to explain the rest. “I desire your presence, your mind, your touch, and...yes, your cock—“ Laurent could admit that confidently, even if his confidence still get cut short at certain points in bed. “—but some desires do not come with the same intensity as the others. You understand.”

That being said, Laurent leant over and kissed Damen softly, his lips still somewhat sweet with the taste of the water of the springs.

“But that can always be changed.”

* * *

Damen didn’t really expect Laurent to answer him so honestly, but he appreciated it nonetheless. He adjusted to allow Laurent to nestle beside him, eyes falling closed as the warmth of the fire soothed his cold body. He didn’t want to move to the bed tonight, he thought he would freeze unless he was right here in front of the fire.

“In that order, then,” Damen murmured. He understood, in a way. He always wanted Laurent near him, always looked to him for strength, for gentle love looking back at him. He met those full lips, parting his own slightly in silent permission for Laurent to explore more if he wished.

“I don’t wish to change you,” Damen said with a yawn, stretching his arms over his head again and burrowing his face into the warm furs. “And it isn’t as if I only desire to make love to you. On my way here I simply wished to see you. To take you into my arms and hold you close again.” His eyes opened lightly, and he smoothed his palm over Laurent’s thigh.

“I wanted to hear your laugh again, and to know you were well.” He smiled. “Once all of that was done, then yes, I desired you more fully. But in a different way than I have ever experienced before. Usually I simply desire the act of sex, the pleasure of seeing my partner sated. With you I…”

He shrugged. “I want to know you, to be known.” Then he looked away. “There is so much we still do not know of each other. Questions we do not even know to ask. Sometimes it feels as though making love to you takes all of those unanswered questions away."

* * *

If nothing else, Laurent understood Damen’s last point about what their love making did. Laurent frequently used it to clear his mind, to create a walled-in world where there was only himself and Damen. It did take the need to know out of things, it took away curiosity and distraction, let them be together in a way Laurent /did/ desire.

“I would only argue,” Laurent said aloud, “that we know more of each other than you give credit for.”

In fact, Laurent would argue Damen knew /too/ much about him now, but that was neither here nor there.

But there were so many unanswered questions, so many moments in their lives that weren’t shared, that would only surface as needed, but that was okay. A little mystery could be seen as a good thing between them. It gave way to moments like /this/, where Laurent could ask questions and be nervous in a way he never allowed himself to be around other people. Other people were so predictable, but Damen still had desires and history that Laurent could take advantage of learning. Where Damen May have saw it as a hindrance, Laurent saw it as a game.

“I’ve a question,” he started, now willing to play the game since Damen seemed perturbed by his lack of knowledge. “The way you fucked that pet at the celebrations. It is similar to the way you fucked the Vaskian women, yet you do not fuck me like that. Why?”

* * *

Damen chuckled, a sound of disagreement. He knew how to read Laurent, understood his mannerisms and expressions, but he still felt his betrothed was a complete mystery. He had never know Laurent /before/ and while they both had crowns and kingdoms, it was not yet /after/. This was a period of stress for them both, one that had to be carefully tread.

He choked on his own spit at Laurent’s question, rolling to his side to cough when he did so. His eyes remained wide, cheeks pink with shock at such a forward question. He certainly hadn’t been expecting that one.

Damen sat up once he had decidedly not died by his own saliva, trying to form an answer.

“You have always said you like things slow,” Damen replied. “That, and you are still new to coupling. You don’t…give yourself to me. I understand it, but that kind of fucking is only pleasurable to those who give me complete control of their pleasure.”

He didn’t think Laurent was going to do that anytime soon. “If you don’t, then it can be painful. I would never knowingly do anything to you that might cause harm.”

He didn’t remember much of fucking the pet, but he did remember how hot and willing his body had been. The Vaskian girls had craved him so desperately he saw no choice but to fuck them with vigor, one after another. He had never seen Laurent with that kind of hunger in his eyes, a lust so deep it could only be filled one way.

“You aren’t ready to do that,” Damen said matter-of-factly, “so I will not bed you in such a way."

* * *

Laurent didn’t like the answer as much as he liked what the question had done to Damen. It was quite humorous to see him choke like that in shock that Laurent could still supply, but to be told he wasn’t /ready/ to be fucked like that made Laurent frown. He gave a haughty little noise as he turned towards the fire, waved a fine hand with a dismissive flick.

“I am more ready for it than a pet that does not know your body as I do,” Laurent argued calmly as if Damen were the one being ridiculous in this.

Laurent could admit the control part, giving it over fully, was not something he could necessarily fathom, but there were moments in their love making where Laurent gave a majority of it over.

He supposed...he just wanted to /experience/ what the others had, wanted to have Damen in the same way so many other had had him. And Laurent had seen them, the women and the pet, and they looked so...blissed and happy after, as if Damen had made them feel a new way that Laurent had not yet experienced. Because he was inexperienced.

And he did so hate being seen as inexperienced.

“We should try it,” Laurent said in a way that was toned as an order, decisive and strong.

* * *

Damen didn’t like to hold his experience over Laurent, but he had fucked enough people to know his way around a bedroom, and Laurent was not ready. He relaxed during sex, but he never gave himself—it wasn’t in his nature. Laurent never wanted to seem needy, which is what he would have to be for Damen to feel comfortable fucking him that way.

He shook his head. “The pet was ready because he was a pet. His job is to be submissive unless otherwise asked. The Vaskian girls were desperate at the sight of my cock, and let me do as I pleased with them.”

Laurent was neither submissive nor desperate when it came to sex.

“You have never fully relaxed with me,” Damen said evenly. “Maybe for a few moments after a good fuck, but you are always too tense. Which has never before been an issue, but here it will be. I will not knowingly cause you pain.”

He had heard stories of reluctant lovers getting tears, bleeding, or intense discomfort from over-eager partners. He refused to turn Laurent into one of them.

“Some day,” Damen said with a smile. “And until then, we have much else to explore."

* * *

Laurent /relaxed/. He was quite skilled at relaxing! He relaxed at least once a day, and with Damen around, he had nearly tripled that relaxation time. He could relax if the moment called for it - far better than any pet could. And Laurent’s entrance was basically made for Damen’s cock. He doubted anyone else fit Damen so well inside of them as he did whenever they fucked. There was nothing tense about him. He was a very good bed partner!

“Perhaps you do not give me the same attention you do them,” Laurent shrugged, turning this on Damen now with a shrug. Yes, that made sense. “You must take extra time with them, resist their orders to fuck them as you cannot mine.”

Yes, it all made sense to Laurent.

“It has nothing to do with /my relaxing/, and everything to do with your inability to make me relax.”

It wasn’t fair to say, but at least as Laurent went on, he stopped believing what he was saying as much as he was just baiting Damen. The only reason he even cared so much was because there were handful of people who now had experienced his own betrothed differently than Laurent had. It also plagued him knowing that there was something he could not give Damen that someone else had given him, something he had seen first hand Damen wanted.

* * *

Damen would have laughed if he hadn’t known it would make Laurent angry. He found it adorable to see him so riled over something so un-Laurent as sex. So Damen let him go, let him throw his barbs about it all being /his/ fault. If he had really wanted to piss Laurent off, he could have said that he was being very virginal right now, but oh, he knew better.

He did roll his eyes. “Laurent, you know full well that on both occasions there was little to no preparation, and certainly no extra time spent. I love you, I do not love them. I do not even care for them.”

He folded his hands behind his head as he reclined back into the furs, staring at the ceiling.

This wasn’t an easy conversation, though he knew the topic well. Laurent was the person he cared about most in the world. Fucking him like that required complete trust on both sides. They did not yet have that trust in the bedroom, not in the way Damen wanted it.

“Laurent,” he said firmly. “You aren’t ready.” He said it in the same tone he used with Korus when he wanted to use a steel blade. “You still aren’t comfortable with me here. I know you trust me, but we spend a great deal of time with the intention of lovemaking before you agree to it. Which I /enjoy/. But I have never seen you need me. You have never begged for me with your mouth or with your eyes. Until you have experienced that kind of need, fucking like you claim to want me to will hurt. And if you fear it—whether you tell me or not—you could be injured if you resist.”

He shook his head again. “So I will not do it."

* * *

Laurent didn’t like it, and though it did not show in his expression, it showed in his body language - tense, as Damen had pointed out before. He did not like being told he was not ready for things - that came from years of being a younger brother to the golden prince himself. Laurent had years of just wanting to show he was ready for anything behind him, and that didn’t just go away.

“Am I the only one who does not give you that satisfaction?” Laurent asked, still biting, still pushing. It wasn’t as scathing as his usual, but it would take a full moment to reel him back in after this little mood of his. “Of begging? Of needing? If I begged you now, you would still deny me, I wager. So what will it be then?”

He leaned forward, took a hold of the iron poker at the hearth and jabbed it into the fire a few times, stoking the logs and letting out his frustration. He was as skilled and even with the poker as he was with a sword.

“It is no matter,” Laurent dismissed then, stabbing into the fire once more. “The thought will plague me every time we lie together now - that I cannot please my own betrothed as others have.”

* * *

Damen could see Laurent’s tension growing, further proving his point. He also knew that there was some truth in what Laurent was saying. He probably would be thinking about this each time they were together—Damen had once been in a place where he could not stop thinking about a comment from a slave that he was “quick” and he had not ever forgotten.

“You please me far more than others have,” Damen said, moving up to his hands and knees to move over to Laurent by the fire. “You know that.” He knew he had to tread carefully here, that Laurent could become hurt if he didn’t choose his words with care.

“It does matter,” Damen said. “It matters very much to me. I love you, Laurent. With all of my being. I feel horrible enough that I fucked a pet in front of you, but you told me that it did not bother you—yet it is clear it has.”

He kissed Laurent’s shoulder.

“Would you like to know how it feels?” Damen dared to ask. “Perhaps if you were the one to mount me, you would see why I wish to wait.”

It made him nervous, because Damen had never been entered by a man. He supposed it was a similar feeling that Laurent had with him, so maybe it was time they turned the tables.

“I would be the inexperienced one, we would both be on even ground. You would learn was resistance feels like, because as much as I love you, I have never been entered before, so I am sure my body will resist it."

* * *

The offer silenced Laurent, and though his face remained even, his eyes told a different story - Damen was just close enough low to be able to see it.

Laurent gauged if this was a ploy or a genuine offer, if this was Damen’s way of proving a point or a way of levelling the field - or a way of just distracting Laurent from the issue at hand. It was an elaborate scheme if it was that, greatly hinged upon Laurent’s desire to learn as opposed to his desire to just be /right/.

He quirked his brow, stared at Damen down his nose and after a long beat, he shook his head.

“I will not mount you to have a point made,” Laurent dismissed, turning his gaze back to the fire. “I will do it because the moment calls for it, because /I/ desire it.”

And Laurent /did/ want to try...but he was admittedly nervous. He feared the opportunity to disappoint Damen in bed in a whole new way. So far, he had done well enough not to do that, and with this new shortcoming of his, he was not so excited to try anything new.

“Perhaps we will take a break,” Laurent offered with that same shrug, clawing his way back to the top of this little disagreement. “And in that time, I will develop the desire you feel I need.”

* * *

Damen held Laurent’s gaze, daring him to say yes. He would do it, without question. There was silence for a long moment, neither king making a move to end it. Then Laurent shook his head and the tension broke. Damen watched his profile glow in the firelight, tried to discern what was going through his mind, what he wasn’t saying.

“All right,” Damen agreed about not doing it to make a point. He had been more than willing, but he nodded, understanding that it was a sensitive issue. They had discussed it once before, and had not decided on it then either. At least Damen could relax.

But what Laurent said next shook him to his very core, an icy wind far worse than any they had experienced outside.

“A break?” he croaked out the Veretian words, praying that term did not mean what it did in Akielon. Laurent could never be so cold, not to him. Not over something so trivial as a position in the bedroom.

“You will separate from me?” he asked in Akielon. “Over this? Two months apart and you did not desire me enough to want that from me when we were together last. And now you wish to separate from me because I refuse to harm you?"

* * *

“Not /separate/ from you,” Laurent responded coolly with a shrug, his eyes still cast towards the dancing flames. “I would never separate from you over something as ridiculous as this, but perhaps I will create a few boundaries. I will be less liberal with how often you are allowed to touch me, and at what capacity.”

It was a cruel punishment, one Laurent was using only to scare Damen, but he sold the act quite well.

“What was the old adage regarding my bedroom behaviours? ‘Once every ten years’?”

It was all a bait, and where it would serve as a punishment only mentally, it might also give him the time he needed not to think of the very real confession he’d given earlier. That he needed to be /better/, like the others his betrothed enjoyed.

If nothing else, it was a game for Laurent. And he did so love a game.

* * *

Damen had never been taken from such comfort into such an icy pit in such a short amount of time. He felt like a slave again, and the atmosphere did not help his temper. He had done nothing wrong—he had refused to put Laurent in harm’s way! He had no idea how fucking like that could be painful, and Damen was glad for it. He dared not ask about Laurent’s sexual history, because he knew who was involved in most (if not all) of it.

“Where is the rod and chain?” Damen asked, stung. “I wager there is still a collar in one of these trunks for you to fit on my neck too.”

He did not get up from his knees, staring at Laurent with a burning gaze now. Laurent had that same arrogant look on his face that Damen remembered from those years ago, uncaring and above all else. Damen could not stand to see it directed at him over something so trivial.

“If you are going to punish me for no reason, I may as well dress as I was the last time you did it,” he growled. This was worse than when Laurent had told him he would entertain other suitors while they were apart, if it was good for the kingdom.

“You can be so incredibly hurtful,” Damen said, his voice cracking just slightly. “I have done nothing. If you wish to be injured, find a strong pet to do it to you, because I will not. Even if you dress me in a collar and cuffs, I will not."

* * *

Schooling his expression through /that/ was not an easy feat, but Laurent managed it. He wanted to say he had been accused of much worse in his time, but Laurent was not so sure that was true. He knew he could be hurtful, and the last thing he wanted to do was hurt Damen, but Laurent had a powerful aversion to losing, to admitting he was wrong, and he refused to do it. He just kept his eyes trained on the fire, expressionless, listening as Damen let him have it.

Laurent even went so far as to clarify, “You were not punished for /no/ reason last time,” as if that made it any better.

If they were being completely honest, Damen had been punished for both killing Ausguste and taking liberties with Laurent’s body, which might stand to why he was so afraid to overstep with Laurent now, but when Laurent was /asking/ him to…

Is that what Laurent was asking him to do? Laurent didn’t even know.

Being with Damen had not magically changed Laurent. He was trying to be a better person, but one year with one man could not undo eight years of being molded into /this/. It was stupid to fight over this, but this wasn't the first time Damen had accused him of being cold and childish, even idiotic, back when he was chasing his uncle’s plots to best him.

* * *

Damen openly flinched at Laurent’s response, unsure of what to say. He was hurt, and Laurent wasn’t going to let this go. He had never expected an argument to come about where Damen was the one asking for caution. But he knew Laurent wasn’t ready for sex like that. He’d never once shown himself to be able to completely let go, to allow Damen his way.

“We can speak about it tomorrow,” Damen said firmly, finished with arguing. “If you are intent on it. I will not be insulted this way any further tonight.”

With that, he stood, collecting how now-warm furs around him. He thought about going somewhere else to sleep, but he didn’t know the palace. He still hadn’t gone on a real tour, and he wasn’t about to go to his old cell of a room.

“I love you. When I deny you this, it is to protect you. I hope you never have to learn that the hard way.”

He moved to the bed, curling in on himself in the furs, very much hurt. Tomorrow they would be at court with a fight looming, and while Laurent would be able to hide it, Damen would not.

Once more, he would be food for the dogs.

* * *

Laurent did not follow Damen to the bed. He stayed sat by the fire, not having moved a bit. His eyes remained focused on the fire, calming himself as he could. Laurent didn’t like how he had just acted, just as much as he had not liked how Damen had responded.

It seemed reasonable to him! This argument had been worthwhile to have. Perhaps there were better ways to share his feelings, but he had successfully spilled them all, had been incredibly honest with Damen, even if that honesty was not well received.

He adjusted himself, pulled his legs up a little closer and rested his chin in his hand, attention still to the fire. He watched the flames dance now to keep himself occupied. To keep himself from turning to look at Damen. As much as Laurent wanted to crawl into the bed, he was standing by his decision in their little fight:

Distance.

If it didn’t work, then he would easily find his way back into Damen’s arms with minimal effort. It was the truth and there was no need to dance around it. He could afford to be a little stubborn.

And he was. The entire night.

Laurent stayed up until an astounding hour, not so much as moving. He’d gotten lost in his own thoughts for a while now, and they truly could be all-encompassing. He didn’t even have a concept of the time that had passed since they’d separated.

Months and months parted by the length of two kingdoms, and now by the length of a bedchamber. It did upset Laurent, and at one point, he even found the fault in his own character. Sometimes, when he became too emotional, he just lashed out until he’d felled everyone in the room, regardless of their place in his life. He hated that he’d done that now, but by the time he realised it, he was much to tired to stand.

And honestly, he didn’t have the desire to.

So Laurent slept on the furs, very un-royally, flushed pink from the heat of the fire and fur on his sensitive skin.

He would have to deal with Damen later.

* * *

Damen didn’t expect Laurent to join him. He knew how stubborn Laurent could be, but he did hate to spend the night alone after he had been forced to do so for two months. Sleeping without Laurent made him anxious, and he tossed and turned through the night when he did finally fall asleep—easier to do when there was no hope of touching or talking.

In the middle of the night he started awake, realizing at once that his nearest weapon was the sword in its sheath by the door. Something had roused him—a noise of some kind. He sat up in bed to see the fire low, darkening the shadows in the warm room.

He moved to his feet, shivering as they touched the cold floor.

There was another noise, the sound of a gust of wind and a long creak as the shutters strained under the force of it. The storm had finally moved in, and it sounded terrible. Damen wondered about his men, but Laurent had assured him they would be fine.

He moved over to his husband-to-be and scooped him up with little effort, kissing his now-cool forehead.

“It’s only me,” Damen assured him, hurrying back to the bed. He wasn’t letting Laurent freeze.

Laurent was gingerly laid on the mattress, and Damen’s teeth were chattering as he groggily crawled in beside him, curling around his betrothed protectively. Angry or not, he wasn’t going to see Laurent wake sore and uncomfortable from sleeping on a floor where the fire wasn’t lit. He assumed the weather was too difficult for servants to move about in, but he wasn’t about to call for them.

“You’re safe now,” Damen murmured, nuzzling closer as sleep caught up to his excursion. “Stay close so I can warm you."

* * *

The night did get cold - especially when the fire went untended to. A servant could have come in at moment at attempted to stoke the fire, but with Laurent right there next to it, it would have been a difficult and dangerous task. Rousing Laurent, especially in this youth when it was actually necessary, had always been a nightmare task. He did rest so infrequently.

The height of the tower in which Laurent’s chambers resided left it with no buffer to the wind. He had, of course, had been given these rooms as a spare child. When it came to worrying about his father, the king, and his brother, the heir to the throne, they had been given the rooms buffered by the walls of the fortress. Laurent could have moved into better rooms /years/ ago, especially after his ascension, but he had simply chosen not to. He had a warm bed, good furs - both of which he usually took advantage of. He was just being an absolute idiot.

Laurent admittedly /did/ start when Damen picked him up. Few people would be so bold as to try it, and even fewer would succeed with such ease, but anyone that was not Damen - who had gone to bed angry with him - would only have done it with ill intent, so yes, he started. But the kiss that was placed to his forehead not a moment too late calmed him right back down, and when he was certain that was Damen above him, he fell back into rest, murmuring something soft under his breath. What could have been sweet, however, was a very soft, “You are using me for warmth.”

It would have been a joke if he had the energy to laugh.

Laurent wasn’t shivering in any way like Damen was, used to the chill, even in the storm. It would need to drop many degrees more for Laurent to take to shivering. But he did not turn down a closeness to Damen, not after their separation had been stemmed from something so silly.

Laurent faked a shiver just to justify his giving in from his strong stance earlier, only to be enveloped by Damen a moment later. He slept /much/ better like that than he had on the floor.


	16. Part II: New Gold (22.3.20)

Damen remained protectively curled around Laurent for the rest of the night. He didn’t sleep well, because the storm picked up outside and the noise was unfamiliar to him. Sometimes it sounded like a ghost, other times like a woman screaming. Regardless of the noise, the wind was ferocious and the temperature kept dropping. Servants did enter at one point to add more coals to the braziers, but only so much could be done.

When morning came, Damen was only aware of it because there was a knock on the door. He kept his arms around Laurent as he looked up to see a servant laying out their clothes for the day. Damen hoped his had plenty of fur.

“It appears as if we must wake,” Damen murmured into Laurent’s neck, pressing a few kisses there. He hadn’t forgotten their argument, but with some rest and distance, he had a better understanding of Laurent’s behavior. He loathed to be seen as unprepared or inexperienced.

The thought of leaving the warm cocoon they had created made Damen wish that they could ignore court today too.

“Assure me that the braziers will be piping hot at court, or else I won’t be going anywhere,” Damen groaned.

* * *

Laurent woke with the servant’s entrance, following with his eyes as the man moved about their room, dropped off their clothing, and left. It was not the boy from the day of the feast, the one that Damen had fought in the ring. No, this was some other man that Laurent had probably seen before, but could not place in his head. At least there were no red flags there. There did not seem to be any seedy traps in their clothing piles, anyway.

Though Laurent watched the man as he crossed the room, he did not move until he felt Damen’s lips at his neck, spreading warmth straight down his spine. Laurent let out the most unthinking noise of satisfaction before he moved back again Damen, wanting him as close as he could be for the little time they had left this morning.

“And what if I want you to freeze for your actions last night?” Laurent asked, rolling as he could to watch Damen over his shoulder. “Forcing me into bed with you when I was sulking properly on the floor.”

He just had to play it off for now, and when Damen was in a better mood, they could revisit their argument as adults. Ideally. There was no guessing Laurent’s mood, and as it turned out, there was no guessing Damen's! He became less predictable by the day!

“How did you sleep with the storm?” Laurent asked a little more softly, turning more to thumb under Damen’s eyes. One day, and he had taken on dark circles, unbecoming of a king.

* * *

“If I had left you sulking, you would be a solid block of ice right now,” Damen quipped. Though they hadn’t really fought, Damen was thankful to have Laurent back in his arms again. He wrapped his arms tighter around him, as though Laurent might try to escape. He wasn’t ready to let go.

His eyes closed when Laurent turned, an he let out a small, miserable noise. “I woke thinking someone was breaking in,” he confessed. “I wanted to make sure you were safe, so I brought you to bed. Then I tried to sleep, but I would say dozing is about all I achieved. The winds were so loud—I’m worried for my men.”

He wanted so badly to sleep—his body was still weak from being drugged—but he knew they could not postpone court again.

A smile crept to his face. “If I were courting you as a prince, I would have come to your chambers last night and played an Akielon fool, worrying over your health sleeping alone in this cold. Would you have taken me into your bed for warmth?"

* * *

“Your men were protected by the wall,” Laurent dismissed Damen’s worries, letting go of the opportunity to point out how ridiculous it was for Damen to fret over break ins. To be fair, he only passed on it because Damen had /every/ reason to worry about it. They had experienced it together, had come out of it together. It was foolish to think someone /wasn’t/ trying to break in, truly.

“We are high up. The wind is stronger here than down there. Besides,” Laurent went on, his voice still deep with sleep, mellow and soft, “I am sure they had already begun to be moved within the palace. It will be tight, but we will keep your sensitive Akielon skin from cracking.”

Laurent let his eyes drift closed, content and warm where he was in Damen’s arms. It was almost humorous to see them in bed together. Laurent never forgot how big Damen was, but he certainly forgot how Damen dwarfed him until they were in a close embrace. He had his legs wrapped around Damen’s calves just to be somewhat face to face with him.

And he nearly fell back to sleep in the silence that followed—

Until Damen felt the need to /speak/.

“You know I would not have,” Laurent smirked, his eyes still closed, for they both knew it was the truth. He would have sent Damen away, back to his own chambers to /think/ about what a night with Laurent would have been like. He would hand dangled the idea in front of him until Damen could no longer resist, and /that/ was when he would be at his most malleable.

“I would have had hot soup made and sent to your chambers, however. Would have left you wondering what my intentions were.”

What his /desires/ were.

* * *

Damen liked to think he would have convinced Laurent to let him come to bed. He could be very convincing. But of course Laurent was Laurent, and he would send him off /because/ he wanted Damen so much. And it wasn’t as if he would ever try to bed Laurent like that. He would have given Laurent the space he wanted, never pressing unless it was well received.

“I would have eaten every last drop, cleaned the bowl and sent it back to you with a flower,” Damen said confidently. How he would acquire a flower in winter would be his secret. But he would have done something like that, and Laurent would have had to deal with it. He probably would tuck that flower away in a book, pressed it there, and kept the dried, flattened petals to stare at at night.

“Your intentions,” Damen murmured after a moment, a smirk coming to his face. “Please. If I appeared at your door in a chiton in the middle of the night, you would not be tempted? Do not lie.”

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to Laurent’s cheek before pulling him to his chest.

“Surely we can blame the weather and postpone court until after lunch,” he murmured, drowsy with sleep. “Say I am still thawing from our adventure yesterday."

* * *

“I have learned to doubt the intentions of the men that come to my door in the middle of the night,” Laurent countered, smirking as he danced around Damen’s every attempt at hearing what he so pleased. He had cast his spell on Laurent, had captured his mind and heart. He needed no more satisfaction than that. Laurent would not give it.

Especially when Damen already had him tangled in the bed, the covers warmed with their shared body heat in a an intimate embrace.

“My court will stand at the ready until the attendant at the end of the hall sees my door open,” Laurent informed Damen then, for Laurent did so love to make his court wait on him. And they did. Every time without fail. “Then he will run, gather them all, and so long as I am kind enough to give them the time, they will all be seated and ready when I enter. When /we/ enter.”

In other lovely words, they could wait as long as they wanted. It all depended on how devious Damen wanted to be.

And Laurent was sure he could imagine how much that was...

He touched his hand to Damen’s face, warm against the chill of Damen’s cheeks from being above the covers, and thumbed there softly, lovingly, with a soft and subconscious smile.

“I was so angry with you last night,” he confessed with the same fondness reflected in his eyes. “I could have tossed you into the hearth.”

* * *

It had been some time since Damen had been /allowed/ at court with Laurent, and it never felt like waiting to him. The attendant would fetch him right as Laurent started down the hall, and Damen had loathed every moment of being dragged to his feet and hauled away to catch up with his master. It was easier when they were on the road, preparing for war. At least then Damen’s only humiliation had been the gold cuffs and collar.

“I know you were,” Damen murmured, nuzzling into Laurent’s hand. He was very glad they did not yet have to rise. “I wasn’t pleased myself.”

He closed the space between them, finding Laurent’s lips for a gentle kiss. His hand moved to the back of Laurent’s neck as he continued sweet kisses, rediscovering the taste he had been denied last night, the softness of those full lips.

“I hope you know how much I love you,” Damen murmured, a breath away from Laurent now. "I hate arguing with you, and I don’t want to do it again anytime soon.”

He pecked Laurent’s forehead before hooking his arms around him and rolling onto his back, tugging Laurent to rest on his chest. He wanted to touch him as much as he could. It was unfortunate that they were both clothed.

“So,” Damen said what they were settled. “I have whisked you into bed, kissed you, and professed my love for you. What do you say are my intentions?"

* * *

Laurent did not fight the manhandling, going willingly with Damen for now - and really any time Damen dragged him about, unless it was in sport. He would never say it out loud, but he /really/ liked it, and that was just how it was.

It seemed Damen did want to take some time just between them, wanted to leave the court awaiting their call, and Laurent liked that just as much. For selfish reasons mainly, but also because it was yet another surprise from Damen - a good one! If Laurent had to be surprised by anything with Damen, he would rather it be his decision to be selfish for once. Much more than he liked the surprise of being turned down in the one place where he liked to think he still had some power.

“You leave yourself defenseless,” Laurent told Damen softly, “And incredibly transparent. I do not need to guess your intentions, when you always have them so clear in your eyes.” He pressed a return kiss to Damen then, one that was meant to be short and sweet, but curt kisses were not meant for bed. He pushed his finger back through Damen’s hair, kissed him languidly before even thinking of speaking again.

“Your intentions are this.” Laurent started with a matter-of-fact tone, framing Damen’s head with his arms so he could prop up, look down at him. “You intend to shackle yourself to me until your dying breath, intend only to have me as /I/ direct and conduct and not a step out of line more until, suddenly, /you/ decide it it is okay to make those decisions for me.” Just a light jab with no real anger behind it.

“And /then/ you intend to…” He had to think through this one, “Argue with me over having an heir after, oh, a year I would say of our fruitful and serene union, but that is quite far in the future still, don't you think?”

He pressed a kiss to Damen’s nose.

* * *

Damen met Laurent’s kiss, smiling into it. He expected something quick, but let out a hum of appreciation when Laurent didn’t stop. He had missed this so much back in Akielos. His body had ached for it daily, and it only ever seemed to numb, it never felt normal when Laurent wasn’t with him. Last night had reminded him of how much he hated to be separated from him.

He cocked a brow as Laurent listed out his intentions, not saying a word. He did intent to shackle himself to Laurent until his dying breath, but he wasn’t sure he had ever promised not to step out of line. For Damen, it was an example of trust, of knowing. He hadn’t learned Laurent completely. Laurent still didn’t show all of himself to him, and that was fine. It just meant Damen couldn’t be as forward as he usually was with his lovers, which was just another reason why Laurent was so special to him.

“I will certainly argue with you about an heir,” Damen said, unconcerned about that. He wanted a child, and that was that. He didn’t mind raising that child on his own if he had to, but he would prefer Laurent be involved. It was a discussion for after their wedding.

He ran his hands up and down Laurent’s back, keeping him close. He just wanted Laurent with him this morning. He had no intentions of making love or asking for pleasure. All he wanted was to be sure Laurent wasn’t still angry with him, because that had felt so horrible the night before.

“Seeing as I am not an Akielon prince eating a bowl of soup in your guest quarters, might I, King of Akielos and your betrothed, hear the intentions of my beloved?”

Of course he was expecting more digs, but he did want to know that Laurent wasn’t still upset.

“Or will I be made to wait until I offend you again?"

* * *

“King of Akielos and my betrothed,” Laurent murmured thoughtfully in response, admiring the cockiness Damen always managed to exhibit. No one ever truly gave Damen the recognition for the mouth he had on him - and to their credit, it was because most did not know just /what/ Damen could do with his mouth, but surely, many of them had been on the receiving end of his wit. “If you intend on waiting for my to be offended, you'll not have to wait long with the boldness of your current tone.”

Damen had been like this in chains, too, resilient and strong, never bowing as other slaves did - even when he did so promise to in return for Laurent’s cooperation with freeing those slaves brought from Akielos. His personality was almost as infuriating as Laurent’s, but in many a different way. Laurent had not merely been teasing when he called Damen defenseless. He had no walls built around him, no lies spat between his teeth. He was honest and forthright in a way many Veretians would never understand - in ways even Laurent still did not. It could be grating, strange, and infuriating, but Laurent would have him no other way.

“Surely you can guess /my/ intentions,” Laurent countered. “I did so well with yours. Come, we will call it an exercise in trust - in intimacy!” Laurent corrected himself quickly, and suddenly, he seemed very interested in this little game.

“Go on. Tell me my intentions for you. Be candid, Damianos."

* * *

Of course Laurent wasn’t going to make this easy on him. His heartbeat started to tick faster, because when asked the question so directly, he found he didn’t really know how to predict Laurent. Damen admired him immensely, and was so attracted to him that it blinded him sometimes, and he knew that. He tried to see past his relationship when it came to his kingdom, but it was difficult sometimes.

As much as he knew Laurent cared for him, he didn’t express it in a way that Damen understood easily. Often he had to take steps back to learn why Laurent did what he did. Why his softness sometimes felt cold or distant even when they were close.

He stared at Laurent for a few thoughtful moments, fully serious in his examination. Laurent’s eyes were so blue, and Damen had to remind himself that he was the only one who could read them.

“You intend to be my partner in all things,” he began, bringing a hand up to frame Laurent’s face. But words just wouldn’t come. Of course he knew Laurent wanted to be with him, but he was realizing now that maybe he wasn’t sure what Laurent’s ideal life looked like, so he tried to imagine now.

“You intend to struggle, with me. To unite our kingdoms. And when that is done, you intend to live quietly among tomes and fine silks in Marlas. When you turn, I will be there. When you are alone, you intend to know with full confidence that I am not straying. You intend to live a life without fear or war or pain, and one day you intend to love me freely without care, when all is settled.”

He could see it. He could feel long grass brush his fingertips as he walked across fields to Laurent, older in his vision, without a crown but still gleaming blue and gold, surveying a bountiful, happy kingdom.

“Am I close?” Damen asked softly, thumbing Laurent’s cheek. “Or have I misjudged you?"

* * *

Though Laurent had wanted a game laden with soft jabs and quiet humour, he should have known better than or think Damen would approach this in any way but in earnest. Where he had hoped Damen would match his playful and shallow vein, he felt Damen reach into his very core, pull out his deepest desires, and he very suddenly remembered the fear he had first felt when Damen had wound his way into Laurent’s subconscious.

Damen extracted from him thoughts Laurent did not even know he had, desires deep with him that he never voiced, that he never even knew to be there until they were expressed, made apparent, revealed - and not even by his own words! It almost felt physical - like Damen had reached inside of his throat and pulled out his voice, and Laurent was guilelessly unnerved.

His eyes scanned Damen’s face, everything in him went still as he saw firsthand someone breaking through a thin wall he always kept up for his own sake - even with his most beloved.

Laurent was /still/, like an animal who had just heard the crunch of a leaf, an approaching danger. Like a deer about to bolt.

Damen had not misjudged. He had seen Laurent clearly, in a way no one else could ever say they ever had. He wondered if his apprehension was as apparent as it seemed everything else was to his betrothed.

Laurent felt a bit ill.

Damen’s brand of honesty had always been a bit hard to swallow.

“I wish you would misjudge me once,” he did manage to get out, his voice pulled tight and airy as he attempted to retrieve it from Damen’s puppeteering.

* * *

Well, Damen seemed to have done better than expected. Something had happened in this bed this morning, the gravity of which Damen had yet to understand. Laurent almost looked frightened and that was how Damen knew he had gotten it right. It made his chest feel hollow, because all of a sudden he /understood./ He saw why Laurent didn’t want an heir, why it probably threatened the vision he had for himself.

Laurent just wanted /peace/. Peace in the kingdoms, in the court, in his household. He wanted to wake up and not have to worry about what was happening in the world. He wanted to return to the safety his life had held when he was a boy. Damen could feel it, he felt connected to Laurent in a new way he couldn’t describe.

“Come here,” Damen whispered, pressing his lips to Laurent’s. He pulled him in for a proper kiss, parting his lips to let Laurent explore him if he wished. His heart ached for the man he loved, because Laurent meant everything to him. He couldn’t stand the thought of him being anxious about the future in such a way.

“Do you know how much I love you?” Damen carded his fingers through Laurent’s hair, as though Laurent was the emotional one right now. “I would never let anything happen to you. I will be here for you, supporting you—even if you come to despise me. I am for you, Laurent.”

He rested his forehead against his beloved’s, smiling wide. He loved his little Veretian king.

“Perhaps you intend to throw me into the fire now?"

* * *

In Damen’s embrace, Laurent felt as if he’d been dragged under water, suffocated suddenly with emotion he would not show, worries buried deep inside of him, now filling his throat, taking his air. It was brief, and only lasted until Damen finished kissing him, but Laurent had not been so sure the pressure would let up before his heart burst in his chest.

Laurent had no choose but to love Damen, to keep him close. If anyone out there understood him as Damen did, it would mean there was a chance he could be bested at any time. Laurent would never find his peace. But with the man who could read him so well by his side, at least he had the comfort of adjusting and acclimating to such weakness. It helped knowing Damen would never use it against him as the last man who had known him at all did.

These feelings and emotions were all so new to Laurent - raw and unanticipated. Uncontrollable. Damen made him feel ways he could not identify, could not name, and made it so Laurent almost doubted his own understanding of himself compared to Damen’s. He may not give Damen control of his body, but Damen fully seemed to have Laurent’s mind.

It would take him some time to realise that was a good thing.

“I come /from/ despising you, Damianos,” Laurent said softly, staring down into the dark eyes staring at him, assessing Damen as he was being assessed. “I’ll not go back there again.” But he did remember Damen’s support when he deserved it the absolute least.

“And I could not lift you to throw you into the fire if I tried to,” Laurent dismissed with a soft laugh, trying to shake his undoing from his mind. “And I do not believe Jord - or any other of my men - would do away with you for me if I demanded it. To this day, I still cannot understand how you made it out of Ravenell with the support of every one of my men.”

But Laurent could. Damen was just as crafty as Laurent was.

So many people /loved/ Damen - Veretian soldiers included! - but at least Laurent knew no one else was on the receiving end of such understanding and intimacy as he.

He truly would understand that it was a good thing one day.

“So....Since I cannot dispose of you, I suppose I will have to marry you.”

* * *

Laurent still hadn’t relaxed, but Damen was more confident now that Laurent wasn’t going to run from him. A reasonable amount of confidence, anyway. Tension was acceptable in this case. Damen thought it felt akin to training a horse for the first time. They were always frightened of new things at first, but while taking away the fear-inducing items helped them relax, they didn’t get used to it. Prolonged exposure was the only cure.

“You will learn how to do the same,” Damen promised about Ravenell. He tried his best not to sound condescending, because he wans’t trying to be. Laurent had a very different leadership style, but he would learn one day that fear wouldn’t achieve the loyalty he needed. Jord was loyal, but even he feared Laurent. Damen didn’t think any of his men feared him—they were his equals in many ways. They respected him and offered undying loyalty because they cared for him as their king, and for their country.

“You do not have to marry me,” Damen said softly. He knew Laurent was joking, so he kept it light, but he never wanted his betrothed to feel forced. “I mean that. Of course I love you, and I want to marry you with all of my being. But if you ever feel that you are not ready, you only need to say the word.”

He hoped an admission like that wouldn’t upset him, but it probably would. Even so, he could understand it. Laurent was very young for a king, and very young to be married in Akielon terms (with royalty, at least). If he wanted to wait, Damen would understand.

He tucked Laurent’s hair behind his ear, smiling up at him.

“I hope you will do what /you/ want, and not what you feel you must do. I will be here regardless."

* * *

It did offend Laurent - it would offend anyone - to have something they wanted so fiercely and undeniably doubted by the person who knew their heart most. But Laurent did not take it as heavily as his heart did at first. Instead of arguing about it, Laurent gracefully sat up atop Damen, delicately took hold of the pillow meant for his head, and shoved it down into Damen’s face.

And he just held it there for a moment.

It was playful. He had no intentions of suffocating Damen today, but he did hold it there for a a good stretch of time, if only to give himself a reprieve from the scrutiny.

“I cannot believe you would even suggest this was a union of necessity and not my desire,” Laurent chastised, pitting a bit of elbow behind the pillow.

“You know me so well in one moment, and then you err like you’ve only just met me.”

He let up on the pillow, sitting back with his arms crossed over his chest, his back a straight line, poised in posture and attitude...now that he had ceased the pressure on the pillow.

“You are insufferable, my love.”

* * *

Damen laughed as the pillow was placed over his face, and continued laughing even as his air supply was cut off and Laurent started putting weight into the pillow. He thought to dig his fingers into Laurent’s ribs in retaliation, but figured he would not like to actually be suffocated with a pillow, so he refrained.

He knocked the pillow away when he was free, laughing just a little breathlessly then. Laurent did look very handsome sitting on top of him like that, and Damen couldn’t help but remember the way he’d been sitting in a similar position in the baths.

“That isn’t what I meant,” Damen countered, hands wandering up the length of Laurent’s long thighs. “I meant that there is much more to marriage than love, especially for us. I would not blame you for wanting more time as an unmarried king.”

His hands snuck under Laurent’s shirt, thumbs moving over his hip bones.

“When I touch you like this, does it make you desire me?” Damen asked, cocking his head against the pillow. “Or is it simply something for me to enjoy?” He was skirting the edge of the conversation that sparked their fight, but he wanted to know.

* * *

“I would be doing myself, you, and my kingdom a disservice if I remained an unmarried king,” Laurent dismissed, arms still crossed, staring down at Damen. He’d bowed his back a little to keep from looking down his nose at Damen, subconsciously not wanting to disrespect him in such a way.

“I stand happily by my decision to wed you, Damianos,” Laurent went on haughtily, watching Damen’s hands run up his thighs, his hips, never once giving way to the little bout of excitement that ran through him, “and you would do well to remember that.”

Damen’s hands were then warm against his skin, his thumbs a steady pressure at his hip bones. Laurent slackened then smallest bit at such a kind and intimate touch, but Damen’s question drew him back from wherever his mind had begun to go.

They were back at this idea of understanding Laurent’s desires - a bold move on Damen’s part to bring up. Lucky for him, he had brought laughter and a smile to Laurent, his cheeks dimpling in a way that always softened Laurent’s shell-like exterior.

This time, Laurent approached it much more calmly.

“I enjoy most of your touches,” Laurent told Damen, letting his arms drop from their defensive position across his chest. “You know that. And you have for some time. It is why you keep doing it.”

* * *

Damen’s eyes softened with his smile. He did so love to hear Laurent speak so fondly of him. He didn’t think he would ever come to a point where it didn’t make him feel special. Though he had never had the chance to court Laurent properly, it always gave him the same bubbling thrill when Laurent admitted to being fond of him—and they were to be married!

“Enjoying a touch is different from them creating desire,” Damen hummed, glad he hadn’t been scolded for his question. “I remember when brushing fingers with you made my heart threaten to burst from me.” He smiled wide. There was something lovely about those times, where he fought to contain himself when Laurent met his eye, tried hopelessly to hide his attraction to the Prince of Vere.

“If you were to touch me this way, I think I would burst into flame,” Damen chuckled, hands gliding up and down Laurent’s thighs a few times before moving up to his waist. He squeezed there gently, feeling Laurent’s thinner build in his palms, then moved to his hips again.

“Do you want to touch me this way?” Damen asked, trying not to press, but he /was/ curious. “I do love your touches, but I seldom last long when you do so. I will try to refrain if you would like to touch me now."

* * *

Laurent wished he could live as Damen did, so open and transparent, without walls, without shame. Damen had this way of making the world lighter, easier, for himself and those around him. He was honest, impressively so, and he let himself feel things without worry or care, shared his own feelings without the fear of them being used against him.

Damen had lost all Laurent had. They’d hated similar experiences through and through. They had even shared captivity in ways similar enough that Laurent had to wonder /how/ Damen lived as he did. Damen was too good a man - the most extraordinary Laurent had ever known - and Laurent wished so wholly that he could share that boyish innocence Damen held onto, wondered what made them so different in mind that Laurent could not hold onto it himself.

Laurent’s chest rose and fell in the silence, his fingers twitching ever so gently with the mention of touching Damen. Did he do it so rarely that Damen had to ask such a question? Laurent supposed he did, anxious that if he did it incorrectly, Damen would call out his inexperience, would /correct/ him.

“I have desires,” Laurent did say after a stretch of silence that just touched on awkward. “I do. And I cannot— I do not understand them.”

There.

/There/.

Damen had Laurent talking, a true skill of his. Damen whittled his way into Laurent’s mind in a a way unfathomable, in a way truly no one in the world could. It was like when he took the words from Laurent’s mouth earlier, only this time he had the decency to pry it from Laurent himself.

“I want the peace that having you gives to me. I want to give myself to you fully and completely, but surrender is not something I know, and trust is...still very new. I feel as if it must be forced out of me as you have these words. But you will not do that.”

* * *

Damen understood that he had achieved something else hard-earned this morning. Laurent was being open with him an a way he seldom was, and Damen wanted to nurture that, to let Laurent feel that it was okay to speak his truths. It was hard for Damen to remember when he did not understand his desires, but he knew he had experienced it. Many times, in fact. He had been cocky and arrogant in bed at first, focused only on his own pleasure with slaves who did not expect otherwise.

“You are right, I will not force you,” Damen said, "but I can guide you. That’s how I learned.”

He turned his head away, cheeks flushing with just a hint of embarrassment. “I was a fool in bed for too long. I did not ever think of my partner. Fucking had been explained to me that seeking my own pleasure was also finding it for my partner.” He rolled his eyes. “It was not until I went to bed with a visiting champion from Mellos that I learned, and that was because he did not allow himself to be manhandled.”

The memory was blurred now, but the feeling of shock was not. “He turned on me when I attempted to enter him, pinned me easily. I was not so good at wrestling at that age. I was young, and in that moment I was afraid he would hold my legs apart and violate me, but he did not. He told me that my fear is what my partners experienced, for the same reason.” Damen shrugged. “Not entirely true, but a lesson for me in my youth. I spent two hours learning, and was pinned several more times before I began to understand how to be firm without forcing. How to properly prepare a man. And women—my female slaves joined us.”

A sigh escaped him, one more contented than not. “I was not a master after that by any means, but I did bed him eventually, and his lessons did not leave me. I am not sure I ever would have learned had he not been bold enough to teach me.” He smiled at Laurent. “I will not pin you, don’t worry.”

But he did want Laurent to learn. It would be a different kind of learning because Damen was willing, experienced, and loved Laurent with his whole being. There was nothing Laurent could do wrong in his eyes.

So Damen lifted his hands from Laurent and folded them behind his head, his torso open and exposed for Laurent to touch. “Touch me,” Damen offered. “Any way you like. Any place you like. I will enjoy it, I promise. I will say nothing until you finish unless you ask it of me.”

He wanted Laurent to feel safe here. Damen relaxed into the mattress, eyes falling half-lidded to look up at his betrothed. There was no need for nervousness.

“I am happy to give myself to you, and when you are ready, someday you will be able to do the same with equal joy."

* * *

Laurent took a bit of shame in the idea of a man /not/ allowing himself to be manhandled, when it was something Laurent enjoyed so thoroughly with Damen. He wondered briefly if, perhaps, he should not enjoy it so, wondered if he should remind himself that it was a weakness—

But he decided against it immediately. Some desires were not /learned/ or consciously decided, they just.../were/.

So he listened on to Damen’s story, trying to imagine Damen anything but perfect in bed. He couldn’t picture Damen without his confidence - the man had been bold enough to touch the Veretian prince when still posing as but a slave in the palace. His confidence had clearly been long standing. And deserved.

Laurent had not worried about being pinned. He was quite used to it honestly, and he supposed he did not hate the idea when he was in a mood such as this.

What Damen didn’t understand was that Laurent truly wanted to surrender to him, but he didn’t know how to do it without hating himself, without feeling weak, ashamed. It was something he was still figuring out. Trust was so difficult for him.

And it was something he needed every opportunity to learn.

“Close your eyes,” Laurent ordered, for if he was going to do this, this touching exercise, he needed it unwitnessed until he free more confident in it. He and obviously touched Damen before, but Damen was a large man. There was still a lot to explore. And Laurent never got to take his time with it. Yes, they had a whole court waiting on them, but Laurent needed this much more than he needed them. He needed this moment with his betrothed. It was long overdue.

Laurent’s first touch was tentative, a brush to Damen’s soft lips with the fingertips of his right hand, the next at Damen’s jaw. He felt Damen’s skin as he ghosted touches down his beloved’s neck, a long slide to his collar bone, where Laurent hooked his fingers, traced the prominent bone as if committing it to memory.

The scar he ventured over next was familiar to him, as Laurent had tended to it for quite a while when it was still a fresh wound. He could still feel the blood on his hands as he applied direct pressure to the wound, could still recall the smell of iron he’d transferred to the bed when he refused to leave Damen’s side. Laurent had been covered in Damen’s blood - what he thought might be the last of if, yet they both had lived long after that day - long enough that Laurent could fixate on that scar, how it almost matched his own.

* * *

Damen hesitated for a moment before shutting his eyes, but then did so. He had hoped to get the chance to watch Laurent explore him, but he supposed that wouldn’t be fitting. Despite being Veretian, Laurent didn’t like to be watched. Not by Damen, at least, Only when he was comfortable enough.

Fine fingers traced along his lip and he parted them gently, just in case Laurent wanted more access. Then he felt soft skin at his jaw, down his neck—he couldn’t recall in that moment if Laurent had ever kissed his neck before, but he was sure he had. Damen had to school himself not to react as he wanted to, because he didn’t want Laurent to think they had to make love. That was /not/ the point of this.

His heart fluttered when Laurent put pressure on his collarbone, and he was sure Laurent could feel it slamming around in his ribcage.

But the touch to his scar made him shiver, only because he wasn’t expecting it. Though the wound was old now, Damen still felt phantom pains ever so rarely. It only ever happened when he woke suddenly, a lingering part of a nightmare. He remembered it so vividly sometimes, always intertwined with his love for Kastor, even as the blade punctured his body.

Damen let out a slow breath, calming himself. He couldn’t think of his brother right now. Not now. This was supposed to be a happy moment with the love of his life.

* * *

Laurent retreated from that touch when he noticed he had very much done something wrong. It wasn’t hard to piece together with Damen’s reaction and, not wanting this to be a scarring experience, he backed off, instead following Damen’s pectoral muscle to the divot between them, fingers tracing the line there gently.

He traced along all of Damen’s muscles. Laurent had his own musculature, but he was much softer than Damen when it came to this area. His practicing in Akielon wrestling had certainly begun to tone him, but his body had been shaped by swordsmanship, with strong arms and strong thighs. His core was tight, slim, but not like Damen’s, flesh carved around musculature that left him with many smooth planes. Laurent took his time with every one of them.

And then he was onto Damen’s hips and, in an explorative moment, he grabbed Damen there as Damen so often grabbed him. He rubbed his thumbs into Damen’s hipbones, which when laying down, were just as sharp as Laurent’s. He did this for a few moments, wondering if it was desire he felt, but...he didn’t. He loved touching Damen like this - possessively and with a little force - but it did not turn into a /need/ or anything like that. He frowned and did it for a moment more before smoothing his hands up Damen’s front again, this time stopping at his nipples.

Laurent thumbed over them with a soft smile tugging at his lips, one he was unconscious of. He knew how Damen liked his attentions there, and he thought of it frequently, for Damen’s nipples were almost always on display. They would look beautiful pierced, with jewels or chains dangling from them. Had it not the suggestion of their past together, Laurent May have insisted upon it. Instead, he could only picture it, thumbs rubbing little circles around and over them.

“Would you consider jewelry here?” Laurent asked, thinking it was not a terribly odd or disrespectful question. He meant only a golden bar or something similar. It did not need to be the dangling chains of before.

* * *

“It’s okay,” Damen assured Laurent when he felt him hesitate at his scar. But Laurent moved away, and Damen found himself able to relax further. The sensual nature of what they were doing began to fall away the longer Laurent touched him, and maybe that was because he didn’t linger long over any one space. His touches were almost furtive, then more confident as time went on.

Damen, for his part, remained still, and his eyes remained closed. Laurent continued to explore, and he let his breathing settle, trying his best not to let his breath hitch when Laurent found a new spot. His fingers were so slender, his touch so gentle.

The touch to his hips wasn’t unexpected, and Damen didn’t shift much. He found it endearing the way Laurent tested gripping there, but it did feel strange. In bed Laurent never really held him in such a way, usually just with one hand, guiding him deeper.

He did grunt when Laurent started thumbing his nipples—how was he supposed to contain himself then?!? Damen bit his bottom lip, arching just slightly into the touch as Laurent continued thumbing there, his nibbles pebbling at the stimulation. As for jewelry, it wasn’t unheard of in Akielon, but wasn’t nearly as prevalent as it was in Vere. Damen had heard rumors of piercing making touch even more stimulating there, but he didn’t know if they were truthful.

“You would like that,” he said in a low voice, said as a fact. He hadn’t ever minded the chains aesthetically, but they were quite the nuisance when tugged, from what he remembered of the clamps.

“Find me someone skilled in the craft, and I will do it tomorrow,” Damen said, unconcerned. his eyes were still closed, but his breath was a little shorter with the way Laurent kept thumbing his most sensitive spot. “Consider it an early birthday present. You may even choose the piece—I would prefer something nondescript. And something that will not get caught on fabric."

* * *

Now, /that/ pulled something out of Laurent - excitement, anticipation, glee, and the undeniable desire to bite his lip, though he could not understand why. The thought that Damen would do that for him, along with the thought of Damen /having/ the jewelry just pleased Laurent in a way he could not describe. It would be beautiful, even if Laurent would have to keep his hands off for a while. It would be worth it.

He pictured small, golden adornments. Not rings like the pets wore, but just a kiss of gold on either side, maybe. Sure, with small customisations, he could have his symbol dangling from Damen’s nipples, but that was hardly ‘nondescript.’

Laurent smiled, thumbing over once or twice more before saying, “I could do it.” He had no idea how to, but he could learn relatively quickly. He didn’t like the idea of someone else touching Damen in such a way, wanted it to himself. “I would not let it hurt.” Not too badly anyway. If the average pet could take it, Damianos of Akielos could as well. Even if someone with an unskilled hand did it.

* * *

Damen’s eyes flicked open. He trusted Laurent with all his heart, but Laurent piercing his nipples with a needle did not sound like something he wanted. Or was it? The look on Laurent’s face was one he hadn’t seen before—something closer to lust than he had ever seen without lots of coaxing. To think jewelry on his nipples as the secret Damen had needed to sleuth out.

Laurent /wanted/ this. Laurent wanted to be the one to push the needle through his flesh, to tag him like a steer—but Damen knew it wasn’t to show ownership.

“And what would I get in return for allowing it to be your handiwork?” he asked, closing his eyes again. He remembered having his nipple bitten once by a zealous pleasure slave—certainly it could not be more painful than that.

“I may be in pain for /days/,” Damen groaned. “I imagine they will swell, hurt to touch. All for you."

* * *

“You /will/ be in pain for days,” Laurent confirmed, giving Damen’s nipple a little tweak just to prove it. But knowing Damen, it would not keep him down or out for long. He was resilient, and more than that, he had been in worse pain as Laurent knew for a fact. “But if anyone should cause you such pain, should it not be me? The one person who can make it better?”

It was stabbing, at the end of the day. Laurent wouldn’t allow anyone else to stab Damen with anything when Laurent was perfectly skilled at it on his own. There wasn’t a part of him that was intrigued by the thought of hurting Damen anymore, that wasn’t what this was. It was something oddly possessive, but it was not an ownership issue. It was just the way for Laurent to get what he wanted that made the most sense. That was it.

“You would receive my services of taking care of you,” Laurent purred, his hands moving to rub up and down Damen’s sides, thumbs working into muscles with a slightly possessive pressure as he did so. “And the compliments of all, I assure you. It would be such a beautiful addition.” The gold against Damen’s dark skin.

“It’s only sensible that you should decorate them if you are to show them off all the time.”

* * *

Damen grunted with the tweak of his nipple, his blood thrumming. He had never experienced Laurent like this, possessive of him. He loved it. This was different than being Laurent’s pet. This was giving himself to Laurent and Laurent taking the reins to turn him into something more. Damen wanted to be whatever Laurent was imagining now.

“Hm.” Damen thought over Laurent’s proposal and tried not to shiver when his hands were moving so confidently along his sides. No, he had not experienced this Laurent yet. What a wonderful morning it was turning out to be.

“I want to be inside you when you pierce me,” he said, eyes flicking open again. Keeping his hands behind his head was a true show of restraint in that moment. “That way whenever I am in pain, I need only think of you above me in the firelight and it will not be so bad.”

His smile curved into something wry. “I only need the compliments of one,” he murmured. “One who has clearly been thinking about this and had yet to tell me."

* * *

It would definitely be an image, what Damen had just proposed, and a dangerous one at that. Laurent would need concentration he was usually not allotted when Damen was taking him, and he could not say he had ever just.../sat/ there at such a pivotal moment of intimacy. That was not to say that the image did not interest Laurent! In fact, he felt something flutter inside of him at the very mention of it. It was cruel he would have to wait.

Laurent did go flushed when Damen alluded to just how long such an idea had been in Laurent’s head, but Laurent was in just the mood to be honest about it.

“They were quite attractive on you as I recall,” Laurent replied easily, confidently, in a way he’d not spoken since their argument the night before. “And you do look so wonderful in gold.”

He brushed his finger over Damen’s cuff, just peeking out from behind his curls. Laurent noticed that Damen was restraining himself, but he didn’t make a comment about it, instead sliding his fingers down Damen’s curved arm and back to his chest, ghosting over his nipples before settling on his lower stomach, right where Laurent’s own lower half hindered any further exploration.

* * *

Laurent didn’t give him an answer, and Damen knew he had planted the seed successfully. The flush on his cheeks didn’t go unnoticed either, and Damen couldn’t stop himself from ginning wide. This was how their conversation should have gone last night, but morning would do just as well. The court was probably enjoying along morning as well, and they might have to wait even longer with the way Laurent was touching him so earnestly.

Oh, and he just kept getting lower. Damen pretended like it didn’t affect him though it very much did, and he settled back against his hands, turned his head to look toward the chest of Laurent’s jewels.

“Well?” Damen asked, as though it were obvious. “You may put them on me.” He didn’t mind the clamps, and if he could coax more of this excitement from his lover, he would do all he could. The clamps weren’t particularly demeaning to him—the cuff was a true symbol of slavery and they both wore them.

He turned his gaze back to Laurent, curious. “That is what you want, yes? To see them on me again?” Did Laurent have other things he wished? More hidden desires?

Perhaps Laurent had desired him as a pleasure slave. It made sense, and it also made sense why Laurent would never say it out loud. Damen had loathed being a slave and would never wish it on anyone else, but he wondered if that would be the key that unlocked his cautious Laurent.

“I have promised not to move unless told,” Damen said, leading. “If there is anything you would have me do, have me wear, now is the time. I have promised no judgement here, and I will not break my promise."

* * *

Seen and exposed, Laurent kept his flush as he looked over Damen, his full bottom lip caught between his teeth as he weighed his thoughts, his responses. Laurent still had not necessarily placed his desire, had not made sense of it, but...he could, he supposed. If Damen would just keep distracting him, keep him from thinking straight, perhaps Laurent would get to the bottom of his desires.

This was certainly a place to start.

“It feels wrong,” Laurent started, but he was not shy or sheepish. He couldn’t be. Not when he had just pulled open the small drawer next to their bed and revealed the clamps there - kept by the bed! As if he’d been planning this! “To want this, I mean.”

He held the chain between his hands, the weight of the gold spilling over and cascading between them. Laurent kept his focus there, let his mind wander, his brow creased as he levelled with the jewellery before him. It wasn’t the clamps he saw issue in wanting, nor was it the implications of them. It was something else that Laurent did not feel right about...he just did not know what.

Instead of working through it, he moved to clamp the first onto Damen’s pebbled nipple, followed a short moment later with the second. He rearranged the decorative chains atop Damen’s olive skin, wrapped the longest gold bit around his hand delicately, not pulling, barely even giving weight.

And he asked suddenly, “Do you ever envy the life of a pet?”

* * *

Laurent was just full of surprises. The clamps had been right there beside their bed! Damen never would have guessed that Laurent would have such an attachment to them. Damen hadn’t even worn them that often, only for the more glamorous of dinners and events in the palace. He had never noticed if Laurent had taken more interest in him those nights—and if he had, he never would have expected /nipple clamps/ to be the answer.

“It is wrong to make children into pets," Damen said. “This is not wrong. It is what you desire, and does not harm anyone.” He knew Laurent would never demean him, not now. In the beginning certainly, but not now. Any desire for Damen to appear a slave or a pet would have to do with jewelry, control, or power—and not to take Damen’s away.

He exhaled as Laurent attached the clamps, a shiver running through him with the cold and bite. But he didn’t mind it, and loved the look of newfound desire in Laurent’s eyes.

“In some ways,” Damen answered without missing a beat. “But I think only because I was fortunate with you, aside from my lashing. You did not force yourself on me or use me as an object to pleasure you. I have little desire to dance or whisper in the ears of royalty like the pets in court.”

He closed his eyes again, allowing Laurent his privacy once more. He did like the mounting tension in the way Laurent held that chain.

“But I would envy any pet of yours,” Damen admitted. “To be thought of whenever you felt desire, to be called when you wanted pleasure. To be the frigid king’s prize. As you betrothed, I would be beside myself with jealousy if you took up a pet. I could not stand it.”

The question was more difficult to answer than he originally realized.

“I am thankful to be born as I was,” Damen said, trying again. “But if I had been born in a different class and you had chosen me as your pet, I would have counted myself a very lucky man."

* * *

Laurent tilted his head, listening to Damen as he payed with the chain absently, taking in what he had to say as if it were not an opinion only, but a matter with much weight. Laurent was turning the response over in his head, considering what Damen was saying, but it didn’t— It didn’t click. It didn’t seem like that /was/ what Laurent was saying.

Laurent didn’t /want/ a pet. That wasn’t what this was. Sure, he enjoyed the idea of having some power over Damen, but it was only because Damen had such power over him, whether he realised it or not. Some pet fantasy might level them, might make Laurent feel more confident in the bed, but...that wasn’t what this was either.

But Damen hit on two things, one much more directly than the other.

It was a /long/, silent journey.

The moment he brought up children, Laurent’s hand retracted, and for a long moment, he let himself work through where his mind had gone. He didn’t say anything aloud, mostly out of habit, though it was very much something he supposed they could have worked out together.

When he had gone full circle with that, he processed what all else Damen had had to say, and in that long silence, where Laurent just stared down at Damen’s abdomen - not even at the gold he had just placed on him - Laurent really had the time and the comfort to figure out what was going on in his head.

The first point he would not talk about. He trusted Damen, but not…not enough to speak openly about his past so frivolously and openly. That was one surefire way to ruin all of this, to see himself as small and fragile, and that was something Laurent would not allow for himself. He would not be able to handle it.

But there were other things he could discuss.

“I do not want a pet,” Laurent reasoned, thoughtfully, his hand back on the chain, moving it between his fingers as if it were not connected to Damen. “But…” He paused, tried to create the words. “I think—“

He shook his head, he didn’t even feel comfortable confessing /that/. Any of this.

“I want to open up to you,” Laurent said instead, meeting Damen’s eyes for this so he knew Laurent did not /mean/ to hide anything from him. He just couldnt help it. “ But…I am not…able.”

And oh, did Laurent hate to admit that.

* * *

Damen was content to wait. He understood this was potentially difficult time for Laurent, and he felt the tension flare up in him as he mentioned children. Even if Damen thought about it too long he became angry, wishing he could have strangled the Regent himself, after castrating him with some blunt object and forcing him to eat his own organ. It was the only remotely fitting way for a man so vile to die.

Laurent’s touch moved away, and he said nothing for a long time. Damen didn’t press, he just laid there quietly, dozing but staying awake. He wanted Laurent to know this was his time to discover and explore. He was allowed to work through it on his own.

His eyes open when Laurent spoke again, and he watched his pale face, the concern in the furrow of his brow, the slow movements of his hands along the chain resting on Damen’s chest. He looked upset with himself as he admitted he wasn’t sure how to open up. Damen wasn’t even sure he knew how to help Laurent open up.

“Do you know why?” Damen asked. “Do you know what prevents you?” He wondered if it was him, their history together. Damen had once been his enemy, and a man like Laurent in a place like Vere could very well hold onto that even without meaning to.

“Is it me?” Damen asked quietly. “Is it something you think it will help to discuss?"

* * *

“Its not you.” Laurent said that first, said it honestly and earnestly, his eyes on Damen’s, wanting nothing between them there. /That/ he could be open about, that this was not Damen. This was Laurent’s own fault, his own issue to overcome. He needed to be honest, he needed to work out trust - and he had! But this would take a lot more looseness on Laurent’s end to openly talk about, and Laurent was simply not that person.

“I…” Laurent started, wavering but as strong as he could be. He /knew/ the issue here, and he was so trying to overcome it. “I can’t make the words. I lack the…/control/ over myself to make the words.” There, that was a confession that meant a lot for him to share. He hoped Damen saw that as it was.

“Discussing it would help, but—“ He laughed despite himself, shook his head. “That would involve my ability to get it out and…I…./can’t/.”

He couldn't! The words would not come out, and he couldn’t help but laugh at himself about it. Not his usual laughter that left him almost incapacitated, but something very genuine at his own expense. It was hell! He was trapped in his own mind over something so frivolous as fucking! Fucking his own husband-to-be! He had to laugh for fear of what he might do otherwise.

* * *

Something was preventing Laurent from telling him, and Damen found it very strange. Usually Laurent was forward—too forward—about everything. He never seemed to care who he insulted or offended when he spoke, but here he was hesitant, almost shy. It was hard for Damen to discern why, and thus made it harder to guess, to help.

“Perhaps it will be easier to answer yes or no,” Damen offered. He wanted to touch, to soothe, but he kept his hands behind his head. It was hard to appear in relaxed when the man on top of him was struggling. Laurent’s laughter didn’t even do much to soften Damen.

“Is it fear?” Damen tried. he could see Lauren fearing intimacy—whether it be pain in lovemaking or something else. Fear of Damen exploiting his inexperience.

“Shame? Do you think I will think of you differently if you do not act a certain way in bed?”

He tried to think of what else it could be. “Something in your past,” he offered. “Perhaps that left you feeling like you cannot be involved with me in the way you wish.” Emotional scars ran much deeper than the physical. Damen had killed Laurent’s closest friend, his blood. An Laurent had been abused by a horrible man. Either of those things was enough to send most men into hiding.

“We do not have to discuss it now, but perhaps you can tell me how I could help."

* * *

Yes or no. Like he was a child. To be fair, it would work, and it would help, but Laurent did not miss how pathetic it was that he, a grown man and a king, could not voice his thoughts to his lover. Someone so bold and honest as he, stuck on his own confessions.

So, he would play along with the game and see what came of it.

Laurent tilted his head thoughtfully, eyes wandering for a moment before he gave something of a nod - one that he followed up with immediately with, “Not of the act. Fucking does not scare me, but fear, I believe, does keep me from sharing with you. Not fear /of/ you, or what you might do with that information, but…fear of how you will think of me. If I share. But I don’t have the thoughts to share with you to change you ropiness of me, so it is…not that.” Laurent was talking in circles, but Damen had the right to know what he could share.

Shame was something much more viable in the moment, and Laurent sat with that option for a while. Shame. Probably. Shame of his past, undeniably, things he would not share, things he would not—

Shame.

It was a lot of shame.

Laurent forced himself to nod, but he did not elaborate, instantly vocalizing, “I do not think its a wise discussion for right now. We have done enough…delving into my head for right now, I think. I don’t—“ He did not want to do this. His mind and tongue alike would not let him.

So he tugged on the chain at Damen’s chest roughly and patted his side, throwing his leg over to climb off of his beloved. They had court to attend.

* * *

Damen assumed this had to be something the Regent had done. He couldn’t think of a single thing Laurent could ever do that would make him thing any less of him—especially where the Regent was concerned. That horrible man was lucky he was dead, because thinking about what he could have done to Laurent to make him so ashamed and fearful of being in bed with his own husband made Damen want to kill that pathetic excuse of a human being as slow as possible.

He saw shame collect on Laurent’s features, turn to anxiety and stress. Damen knew what it looked like when Laurent was going to bolt, so he wasn’t surprised when—

“Fuck!” Damen yelped as Laurent pulled roughly on the nipple clamps. Pain shot up his chest, and he /quickly/ took them off after that, breathing with his lip tucked between his teeth as the pain ever so slowly subsided. “If you mean to disfigure me before you pierce me, that is one way to do it,” he hissed. He spend another moment there nursing his tender flesh until he followed Laurent to stand.

“Wait,” he said as he approached Laurent, finally free to wrap his arms around him. He leaned in, capturing that sweet mouth in the most fond kiss he could muster. He loved Lauren with all of his heart. The last think he wanted was for Laurent to think he would love him any differently due to some kind of revelation.

“I love you,” Damen said softly, pressing a kiss to Laurent’s nose. He swayed them gently, pulling Laurent to him and nuzzling into his hair to place a few more kisses to his head. “I love your words and your books, your jewelry and I am very much looking forward to you piercing me.”

He pecked Laurent’s forehead. “Just please, please do not tug on my piercings like that, ever."


	17. Part II: Setting the Stage (29.3.20)

Laurent had not expected to be dragged back, but he let Damen do it, falling into his hold, staring up at him without worry or anxiety despite his exit from the bed. He did not want to be ashamed, did not think it was pertinent to their day. He wanted to be honest, wanted to share, wanted to give himself to Damen in a way he just could not. The least he could do was /look/ at him right now.

“I love you,” Laurent sighed, relaxing into Damen’s hold, leaning against him and wishing he had so much more to offer in that moment - like /proof/ that he loved and trusted Damen. That would be nice.

“And I would never do that to you."

Not until they were well and fully healed.

“Damen,” Laurent said suddenly, just as he was turning to grab his clothes. He stopped himself, fingers poised to grab, but he did not follow through. “You should have court today. Just…you.” Laurent turned back to him, instantly confident with confessing, “Yes. I have something planned. But that is all I am willing to tell you.” He strode right past Damen—

And straight back into bed, under the warmth of the covers, watching Damen from there.

“I addressed them in your absence, and I think…you can address them in mine. Tell them of the contest, of my—/our/ prize."

* * *

Damen couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Facing the court alone seemed like a /terrible/ idea, and he saw no reason why Laurent would ever allow him to go in there by himself. He barely knew how to hold court! It wasn't necessary in Akielos that often, and their system was much different. He had no idea how to conduct a Veretian court, especially without Laurent at his side.

“Oh no,” Damen said, shaking his head. “You cannot just decide to send me in there alone, not here!”

In that moment he couldn’t even remember what they had decided about the competition. Damen moved on top of the covers, arms braced around Laurent now. He was trying not to panic, but this was the single most frightening thing he could think of right now, barring someone hurting Laurent.

“Unless you intend for me to become the laughingstock of Vere, you must come with me.” Real fear leapt to his eyes, because he did not see a way to lead court in a way that didn’t make him out to be a fool. “I do not even remember most of yesterday. How am I supposed to respond to them if they ask me about it—as I am sure they will!"

* * *

Oh. /Oh/. Laurent had not expected such a reaction form Damen, and he opened his arms instinctually to accept him into an embrace, having not fully processed the response by the time he had Damen pulled to his chest.

“You are not going to be a laughingstock,” Laurent tried to dismiss, but he realised the odds of his council treating Damen well without their own king by his side would be unlikely. They were ruthless, the bunch of them, though Laurent believed they may act slightly better with the events of Cylan. He had to believe that, but if Damen would not go without him, then he supposed it did not matter what Laurent believed of them.

“You are to be their king, Damen,” Laurent reasoned with him, soothing him with a soft kiss. “I will attend with you, but I will make you speak. I will make you lead. You are capable of this.” As capable as he was to boldly touch an icy prince, bold enough to throw a sword and slay a distant foe, bold enough to comment on that same icy prince’s silhouette through a thin garment. Damen could handle a Veretian court.

“They will not touch you, Damen,” Laurent murmured softly. “I promise you."

* * *

Damen didn’t expect Laurent to pull him in—didn’t think he needed it—but as soon as he was against Laurent’s chest he felt himself releasing tension. Of course it was foolish to be afraid of these people, but Damen had been wholly uncomfortable with this entire trip. Arles was a place where he had been enslaved and humiliated countless times. He had never won any favor here except /some/ of Laurent’s before they went on the road.

He didn’t know what was worse: making a fool of himself alone at court, or being humiliated with Laurent watching.

“If your plan…” He swallowed, warring with himself as to what to do. There was no scenario where he saw it going /well./ But he felt that Laurent would be disappointed in him either way. Nothing made him feel weaker than facing these people—and he was a king! They had to obey him. Yet they had not followed his order upon his arrival, defying him until Laurent had entered and gave /his/ word.

If they chose to do the same today, he didn’t think he would ever be able to have control of them.

“Why would they listen to me?” he asked. “I am not their king yet. You should have seen them when I arrived. I demanded the fruit be given to my disrespected party and not one of them moved. Not even the pets. They would not even look at me until you entered. They had no respect for me, and are not bound to obey until I am king over them.”

His laurel crown was just an unimpressive piece of jewelry to the likes of the Veretian court.

“There is no consequence to them if they disrespect me, but /I/ will be branded a fool."

* * *

“I had not yet castrated one of them for disrespecting you when you arrived,” Laurent reminded Damen, smiling up at him, just trying to calm him. “And there will be no witnesses but the likes of their own kind,” Laurent went on, voice calm, hands warm on Damen’s cheeks, thumbing softly. He had no doubts he could calm him.

“They have not seen you since the incident. I can send an attendant. At your very call, I could be by your side.” And Laurent planned to be, but he wanted to see if any change had come through fear.

“But I will not force you to go alone if it is not what you wish,” Laurent promised Damen. “I won’t throw you to the dogs if you feel you are not yet their master.”

Laurent could conduct his little experiment later.

* * *

Damen was still worried, but he saw now that he had to go in alone. An attendant would only make him seem weak—what excuse would he have? That Laurent simply did not wish to come? And when they insulted him, he could suddenly appear? It would only make him look more inferior. 

“I don’t want to go alone,” Damen said softly. “But I will. No attendant.” The thought made him feel ill, but he would do it. Laurent had plans, and the day would come eventually where Damen would be forced to hold court alone. 

He gave Laurent a kiss, then got out of bed. It was foolish to be so nervous, but his body tensed and began to tremble ever so slightly as he dressed in an embroidered chiton, his cloak, and boots that had gold stylings to mimic the pattern of Akielon sandals in a tasteful way. He also attached his weapons belt with a shortblade that was mostly for show, and hidden under his cloak. 

“I will meet you after,” he said stiffly, not able to look at Laurent for fear he would go back on his word. “I love you.”

With that, he strode from their chambers and motions to the attendant. 

Minutes later and he entered the great hall to the splendor of Veretian court and the pack of wolves waiting inside.

* * *

“It will be for good,” Laurent promised Damen softly, holding him until his fingers slipped when damen moved too far away. He watched Damen dress, noticing a slight tremble, but he chalked it up to the cold. He had only ever seen Damen fearful once, and it was so long ago, he barely remembered it.

“You tell me /anything/ they do wrong, Damianos,” Laurent ordered, sitting up and making sure he was very clear. “You don’t let them get away with it. Call for me.”

He would make this worth Damen’s while, had already found a way to reward him, but...they needed to rest this. He needed to see how his men reacted after Cylan, if more fear needed to be introduced into their lives.

The council was already in their seats when Damen strode in, every one of them looking expectantly past him, waiting for their own king to enter.

He did not.

But no one spoke at first. It was foolish to think Laurent did not have eyes in this room. No one wanted to be the next on the block - the block that was still very much there, covered in stale and dried blood from Cylan’s procedure. Laurent had ordered it stay. He did love a statement.

* * *

Damen noticed that no one in the council really acknowledged his arrival. They were all looking for Laurent. When he did not appear, they finally turned their gazes back toward him as Damianos took his seat. He saw the block and didn’t flinch—he knew it had been left there for a reason. The same way his scars would always be visible, and now Lucien’s too.

Damen let the silence linger and sunk back into his throne. Kingship was an intoxicating thing, and he found himself calming even as his heart pounded. Sitting without Laurent was strangely liberating.

“Laurent will not be joining us,” Damen finally announced. “We have much to plan for our wedding, and we both felt that it would be best if I handled court today so that he may focus elsewhere. I would like to thank you all for the celebrations yesterday.” He lifted his eyes to stare at each of them in turn. “Of course, Cylan’s display was not at all welcomed. Had Laurent not decided on a punishment, I would have been able to share with you the Akielon methods. Perhaps that is where the idea of barbarianism stems.”

He let that settle for a moment.

“Now, does anyone have anything to bring to my attention this morning?"

* * *

An impression had clearly been made. The only person who looked in the least bit comfortable was Lady Vannes, and evening /she/ was a bit on edge if her silence indicated anything. She at least looked right at Damen, respectfully not meeting his eyes. In fact, her gaze was turned to his reddened nipples, her eyebrow raised. No one else noticed it.

Lady Vannes spoke up first, confidently and respectfully, bowing just so before she spoke.

“The Akielons have been moved inside, your majesty,” she announced. “Most within the palace walls, others in the inns and the homes of those willing to offer them.”  
She sat back down, leaving the floor open for the next speaker.

Mathe stood next, a bow starting off his announcement as well.

“Lord Cylan has been returned to his home for recovery and will be unable to join session for a few days more. His absence will not be filled unless his majesty requests it.”

No one else volunteered any information, most of them stewing quietly, not wanting to be disrespectful, but wondering what the point of this meeting might be if their own king could not be bothered to attend.

* * *

Just as Laurent predicted, his men were safe in the confines of warm homes and inns. That would help him sleep tonight, as would ending this horrible session at court. Damen had to admit that he didn’t understand the need for court meeting each day—it seemed so Veretian. Daily meetings seemed to breed inefficiency, and more often than not it was probably just a way for these aristocrats to flaunt their wealth at each other.

“He will not request it,” Damen muttered. “Nor will I.” He realized too late that Mathe may have been referring to him in the first place, but oh well.

No one said anything or some time. Damianos let the silence drag, unperturbed. He was gaining some confidence now, but he knew as well as the court did that his authority was fragile here.

“I see,” Damen finally said. “It appears you must be bored then, if there is nothing to report. A court with buzzing minds like yours should not be put to waste.” He sat up a little straighter, trying his best not to be overtly rude. These people hadn’t actually done anything to him aside from watch him as Laurent’s slave. Oh, and maybe they had drugged him. And maybe had been privy to hurting Lucien.

“Laurent and I discussed a battle of minds for you all. A competition.” He paused for emphasis. “By the end of my stay in Arles, you are each to create a policy offer for the progression of Vere and Akielos as a united kingdom. A selection of Akielons, myself, Laurent, and I presume some Veretian nobility will act as a panel of judges. The policy voted more favorable to both kingdoms will be instated, and the creator will host both myself and Laurent before I depart.”

He looked about the room. “Any questions?"

* * *

Lady Vannes’ eyes lit up at the idea of a competition, especially one that came with a party as a prize. She smiled and sat back in her seat, heard already turning while Mathe distracted himself by making things more difficult for himself.

“Is the King not well?” Mathe asked suddenly, looking around his compatriots to see who might join in. “This is quite the ruling. It seems he should be here for it. Is he ill?”

“Oh, do stop it,” Vannes dismissed him. “The boy is healthy as ever. He must have desires, a break from the likes of us, which can be understood after yesterday. It is so very like him to throw his lover to the sharks.”

“We are hardly sharks,” Mathe murmured. “Cylan was a shark and he has since been neutered.”

“You may be next,” Vannes dug at him with that same smile, and then it all erupted into a pompous argument of just who would be the next on the block which then, thankfully, turned to a discussion of the competition amongst them.

* * *

Damianos schooled himself when Laurent was brought up, too startled by the question to immediately respond. As much as he’d expected this to come up, he had no idea how to respond now that it was happening. Where was he supposed to say Laurent was? Not ill—Laurent would hate that—but the truth wasn’t readily apparent even to Damen.

Thankfully, Lady Vannes interceded before he could make a fool of himself. Damen wanted to argue that Mathe was indeed the one who should be next to go, but of course he would never say such a thing and simply sat back to watch the court turn on itself and then to the competition.

“Enough,” Damen said, lifting a hand. “The competition will be formally announced soon. I would warn you not to underestimate my people. May the best policy win.”

Damen stood then, adrenaline pumping through him now. He had done it. He had managed to hold court on his own this time. “You are dismissed."

* * *

Lucky for Damen, not one of the councilmen wanted to stick around. Time with Damianos was time to slip up, time to set their own king off, and - even so - time to set Damen off! He was someone who had proven time and time again to be a brutal killer, someone who already was quite cross with the Veretian council. They would all need to tiptoe for some time, for their safety.

Last Vannes was the last one out, of course, boldly stepping up to Damen and placing her hand on his chest. She knew Laurent would never let Damen convince him she was wrong, and she flaunted it openly.

“A cold compress might help with that,” she murmured with a smile, tapping his chest twice before following the others into the hall and back about her day.

Damen had done it.

Laurent had not been bothered once. He’d also not had the time to fully go through with his plan, but he was roughly...half a jug of wine in, his face screwed up as he just tried to get it all down.

* * *

Damen would have loved to see what Nikandros—or Laurent, for that matter—would have done upon seeing Lady Vannes putting a hand on his chest so openly. Even though it was just the two of them, in Veretian terms this was already quite the scandal. But what came out of her mouth made his face go beet red. How—?!?

Oh hell. He had not thought about how certain parts of his chest might be exposed (Laurent was the only one who seemed to think about it), nor had he thought about anyone noticing! Of course it still felt raw where Laurent had yanked on him, but he hadn’t thought it to be anything to worry about!

“Goodbye, Lady Vannes,” Damen growled in Veretian, and once she was gone he all but fled back toward their chambers. The anxiety of the situation fell upon him all at once now that it had ended, and he was shaking all over by the time he pushed open the doors to their chambers after greeting Jord at the door.

“I never want to do that again,” Damen said, pressing back against the closed door. “I feel the only reason I escaped them was because of their—“

He blinked upon seeing Laurent with…wine? Surely not. But his face showed the drink more than the jug or his chalice, and Damen glanced around to see if something was wrong.

“Laurent?” He approached cautiously, worried that something had happened in his absence. “What is wrong? Why are you drinking wine?"

* * *

Laurent raised his hand to stop Damen, clearly having a tough time getting his most recent chug down, but after a few tries, he got it, and pulled the jug from his face, nose still scrunched.

“This is terrible stuff,” Laurent stated, looking down into the jug to see about how far he had gotten. He definitely felt a little off, felt his vision and his judgement blurring, but he would need to get a little further in for it to stick. He was also playing along the fine lines of not being sick in a few hours.

“Nothing's wrong,” he assured Damen after another sip, this time, his face more or less schooled over the taste. “I am dropping inhibitions. I’m going to be honest with you, and this—“ Was the only way he’d be able to do it. They both knew that.

* * *

Damen was not going to see his future husband fall ill over drink. He knew Laurent could take in a lot of alcohol for a smaller body, but he also knew Laurent didn’t have frequent experience with it. Drinking at that speed—wine, of all things—would definitely cause him to vomit soon if he didn’t let up or at least pair it with some good cheese and bread.

All to search for honesty. Damen’s chest tightened as he cracked the door.

“Lazar, please fetch supper for Laurent and have it brought to our chambers. Something with cheese and bread,” Damen said.

“To help with the wine?” Lazar said, then quickly smarted when he realized he’d spoken out loud. “Yes, Exalted.” Jord fought not to roll his eyes as Lazar sped off. Damen watched Jord for a moment, trying to see if he looked nay happier now that he had a pet, but then he ducked back into the bedroom.

“You will be ill if you keep drinking like that,” Damen said softly, putting his palm over the mouth of the jug. He curled a finger beneath Laurent’s jaw and tipped his head up, trying to gauge how drunk he was already.

“Wait for our food to arrive,” he ordered in a gentle but firm tone. “I have no doubt Mathe has already started rumors about you falling ill, and I will not see them proven true."

* * *

“I won’t be ill,” Laurent dismissed wholly, but he did relax his hold on the jug, dropping it to his lap and staring down into it. He was wavering ever so slightly, moving without any cause from the world.

Yes, it was hitting him.

“I am mush more aware of my tol’rance than you thin’ I am,” Laurent told Damen pointedly, nearly letting them whole jug slip from his fine fingers when he moved to place it on the table beside their bed.

“I’s just wine,” Laurent dismissed further, his hands anchoring him to the bed, keeping him still. “Mathe can say as he wish’sh. I could do without him in my court.”

* * *

Damen took the jug after Laurent had set it down. Finding the cork wasn’t difficult, and he placed it on a table further away, just in case Laurent got any ideas of sneaking it. Of course Damen had seen Laurent drunk before, but he found it endearing every time. It as good he wasn’t wrapped up in laces, so at least he wouldn’t overheat.

“I will help you get drunk,” Damen offered, taking Laurent’s hands and pulling him from bed to stand. He put his arms around Laurent and started to sway the, gently, as though music was playing. “And I agree about Mathe.”

Movement always seemed to help him feel the effects of drink faster, and Damen could already smell the wine on Laurent’s lips. He wanted to kiss them.

“I’ve got you,” he assured, tightening his hold. “I can’t imagine the state you would be in if I had come back later. Has Jord been checking on you?"

* * *

“Jord always checks on me,” Laurent assured Damen with something of a stubborn tone, swaying with his beloved in a way that made him feel like he was being shaken up. “I think he means to kill me one day. For what I did to Aim’rick.”

They were getting somewhere.

“I did not know the boy would be so fragile...”

Laurent shrugged, his hold on Damen tightening a bit as the drink really began to hit him. Damen had promised to help, and sure enough, he had. He was so reliable.

* * *

Damen could feel the more drunk Laurent became. He found it adorable, and he very much enjoyed having this little moment together. He smoothed Laurent’s hair back and slowed his swaying further, allowing Laurent a bit of time to catch up and lean against him.

“You did what was necessary,” Damen soothed. He pressed a kiss to Laurent’s head just as there was a knock at the door. “Food has arrived.”

He leaned down, hooking an arm around the back of Laurent’s thighs and hoisting him up to hold him in one arm. He liked that it was so easy for him to carry Laurent, and that Laurent never truly seemed to mind when he did it.

“On the bed,” Damen said to the servant, pressing a kiss to Laurent’s cheek as he carried him along. He rested his beloved on the mattress and offered him a piece of bread and a cube of cheese.

“Eat this. Have some dinner, my love. We have all night to talk."

* * *

“I did what was necessary,” Laurent agreed, holding onto Damen a little more tightly when the door opened as if he could hide the fact that he was drunk. That all went out the window when Damen /lifted him with one arm/ however.

Laurent couldn’t help but exclaim, “You are so strong....” His hands awkwardly touching Damen’s face until he was on his back, staring up at his betrothed.

Laurent felt /magnificent/...if not a little woozy.

He chewed on his bread, sitting up and holding it very carefully between his two hands. He was absolutely terrible at holding his alcohol, but even then, he was trying to look controlled, put together.

“You should lift me like that more often...” Laurent marvelled, now holding his cheese more rodent-like than anything. “I like that. Quite a lot.”

* * *

Damen laughed outright at the compliment about his strength. The touches to his face made him smile and he had to wonder if this was what Laurent had been like before. Awestruck and curious, unperturbed by social conventions. Maybe just as touchy.

He was horribly drunk. Damen offered him another piece of bread, lifting a brow.

“You do? Then I will.” He wondered if this was just something drunkenly said, or if Laurent really did like to be—

Of course he did, he was a Veretian king. If he didn’t have to walk at all, he would probably prefer to be carried around by servants, reclined on a soft mattress. Laurent loved his shows of power and aristocracy in a way Damen would never understand.

“What else do you like?” Damen asked him, offering some grapes next, popping one in his own mouth along the way. “Shall I carry you to bed each night?"

* * *

Laurent nodded at that idea, quite liking the possibility of being carried to bed nightly. He smiled at the thought, laughing softly and taking a grape between his lips, chewing it thoughtfully when Damen asked his next question.

What else did Laurent like?

“Your dimples,” Laurent decided, completely missing the point of the question, reaching up to touch again, his finger poking without coordination at Damen’s dimple. “They are some handsome...”

He patted them a few times before letting his hands fall to his chest, tapping out a bit of energy there.

“I like...” Laurent started again after a moment, “when you...toss me around and...pick me up and all of that ridiculous behaviour as well. I’s very...fitting of you.”

* * *

Laurent was too adorable. Damen couldn’t stop smiling, his dimples all the more visible as Laurent tried to poke at them. It wasn’t what he’d meant to ask, but he supposed that didn’t matter. He would rather talk about his dimples than something that would lead to Laurent being upset.

“Like this?” Damen chuckled before crawling over the mattress, grabbing up Laurent and pulled him into his lap, bridal style. He kissed Laurent’s cheeks, his nose, smothering him in loving little kisses before relenting and grabbing up more food for his betrothed.

He ate a bit too, until hunger no longer edged in his blood after their morning spent together where he had ultimately become too nervous to eat any breakfast.

“Now, you said you drank all of this wine to tell me something. What was it?” he asked. He didn’t want Laurent to have to drink more, and he would sober up sooner rather than later.

* * *

It was /too/ sweet, soft in only a way Damen could be with the Veretian king. Laurent scrunched up his nose and smiled, tipping his head back to give his face a break from the kisses. He was happy - so fucking happy, but he could have been this way sober. He had very much done this for a reason, and it was best to get to it.

“I’ll need more wine,” Laurent murmured in a way that almost sounded sobered had it not been slurred just at the end there. What he needed to say could only be confessed unconsciously, and Laurent understood that meant the sacrifice of control. It was the whole point.

“You had...questions this morn’g and I want to distress—dis—/address/ them.”

He found a way there.

* * *

Damen didn’t want to, but he slipped from bed and grabbed the jug of wine for Laurent. Before handing it over, he took a long draw for himself. Veretian wine was very sweet compared to what he was used to, but it did remind him of Laurent, so he never had too much of a problem with it.

“If you start to feel ill, we’re stopping this,” Damen warned before handing over the jug. He offered cheese right after, wanting to make sure Laurent was still eating food with his wine before he got sick. This whole idea of Laurent needing to be drunk to speak to him wasn’t one Damen was completely comfortable with, but Laurent had made the choice sober.

“Speak when you are ready, about anything you wish. I have loved you long enough without answers, I do not need them unless you want to tell me."

* * *

Laurent did want to tell, and he wished he could do it without this terrible drink, but he was already a third of the way in, and this was just how it would have to happen.

He handed the jug back to Damen, eating the singular piece of cheese before lying down, straight onto his back, his eyes up on the ceiling.

“S’o horrendous,” he murmured about the wine, but the way he blinked a moment later showed that he had had more than enough by now to make this count. He closed his eyes, took in a few little breaths and—

Said nothing.

For a long while.

Just when he could have been mistaken for falling asleep, Laurent found the will to speak up, eyes still closed, voice slurred.

“I shouldn’t want you,” he said outright, feeling blindly for Damen until he could place his hand on Damen’s. “I shouldn’t, and I know it.”

* * *

Damen chuckled at the way Laurent hated his wine, but before long he was just lying on the bed beside him, eating the occasional grape while Laurent rested. He made sure the jug was corked before really settling down onto the covers, taking the time to watch Laurent’s face.

His skin was always smooth, free of blemishes and soft as a newborn’s. He was blessed with never having been marked there, and his nose curved into a beautiful point, classical Veretian nobility. Damen loved that about him. He also loved to pale pink lips that turned rosy when kissed or bitten.

And where he had expected this conversation to be difficult, he had never truly expected the difficulty to be _him_. What he had done to Auguste. That had to be why Laurent wouldn’t speak of it, and he felt suddenly foolish for thinking it had something to do with the Regent.

“Is that why?” Damen asked softly. “You cannot fully trust me because of what I did?"

* * *

Laurent shook his head, not bothering to open his eyes, but addressing Damen all the same.

“S’not what you did, Damianos,” Laurent assured him in a slur of reassurance. “S’what I did. S’what happened to me.”

And that truly showed how drunk Laurent was, to address it so easily as this, to just mention it, and then /go into more detail/ about it. It never could have happened without the wine - never would have.

“How could I...ever /want/ to fuck aft’r what happened with him?” It had everything to do with his uncle. Of course it did. The one thing he has Damen could never discuss. “I’s ruined ev’rythin’ for me, and...and he’s winning, and he’s /dead/.”

* * *

Damen couldn’t say he was relieved to hear he wasn’t the root of the problem, especially when it concerned the Regent. He wanted so badly to kill that man, but he had already been taken away. It made him want to destroy something, to find something to break apart with his hands for what had been done to the man he loved.

“You don’t have to,” Damen soothed. He could only guess what atrocities the Regent had done to Laurent, and that feeling of rage just curled in his gut, burning him alive. He would stay celibate for the rest of his life if it meant Laurent’s happiness. He would find a way.

“He manipulated you,” Damen murmured, thumbing the side of Laurent’s palm. "He took away your choice. Even if you think you had one, you were a /child/, Laurent. Of course you trusted him. He was your blood, he was supposed to guide you.”

He brought Laurent’s hand to his lips and kissed it gently.

“As you told me, we did court, just not in a traditional way. You have feelings for me, you love me, so of course you desire me. That is natural.”

It wasn’t something he would ever admit, but Damen had had conversations like this a few times in his life. Women who had been hurt by former lovers, visiting royalty who were cheating on other lovers with the prince of Akielos.

Laurent was different, of course. Damen loved him so much his heart was aching as he lay there beside him.

“I cannot say I know what is real and what is rumor with your past lovers, but they were not me. We will be married, and you know my love for you is real and true.” He pressed a kiss to Laurent’s cheek.

“Do not blame yourself for wanting me.” He smirked, unable to help himself. “I’m told I’m quite attractive."

* * *

Laurent snorted - /snorted/! - despite himself at the mention of past lovers. “You mean my affair with my own brother?” He drew out sarcastically, knowing well that Damen knew that was a lie - or at least truly hoping he did.

He did get his eyes open to very briefly side-eye his beloved’s comment about his own looks, but he closed them right back after a shake of his head. This...felt good. Not to talk about really, but to have Damen hear it, to have Damen handle it.

“I s—“ Laurent tried again. “I /th/ink of him less now. Now that I am with you, but I cannot ssstand it when you say—when you say I’m not /ready/ for something or—when you feel you must teash me a lesson. It brings him back and I /hate/ it.”

The honesty just spilled out on that one, and Laurent did not even seem to realise. He merely reached out for the plate of food, grabbed the first thing he felt - bread - and pushed it into his mouth, doing his best to not become ill from this.

* * *

Damen frowned. He hated that people were so cruel that they saw Laurent’s love for Auguste to be something vile. Of course, he could see why: people in Vere only seemed to love their money or their clothes. A brother taking care of his younger brother without malicious intent? Of course they must be sleeping with each other. Only Veretians could create such a rumor.

Kastor had always cared for him, but so had their father. Theomedes had been a loving father, and Damen had inherited his big heart and loyal tendencies. Kastor could have been thrown out upon his birth, but instead their father had kept him as a son, even if he could no longer be king. The fact that Kastor had even been considered for the succession was beyond conception for most in any kingdom.

“And what am I to say then?” Damen asked, pushing back Laurent’s blond hair. “He did those things to harm you and manipulate you. I say the same things but out of love and protection. It isn’t about teaching you a lesson, Laurent. I simply know that I will harm you if I were to…If I made love to you that way.”

He wasn’t going to shy away from the truth when it came to Laurent’s safety. He loved him too much to see him hurt just to prove a point.

* * *

Even with his eyes closed, Laurent somehow made it clear to see that he rolled his eyes beneath the lids. He would have opened them to give Damen the full effect, but he could feel the world spinning enough. He didn’t need to /see/ it as well.

Pointedly, and in far from a coordinated gesture, Laurent prodded at the scar on his shoulder. It made a dull thudding sound with just how hard he was poking. “I killed a man with this,” he reminded Damen. “With a /chair/.” More or less, anyway. “Pain shouldn’ be a factor in what I can and...can...? /Cannot/. What I can and cannot handle.”

But that wasn’t even what Laurent was arguing. That wasn’t the point of this.

“When I got to play your pet,” Laurent started up, a faint smile on his lips, thinking back to that little excursion of theirs. “It was the most fun I’d had in /ages/. People praise me when they thin’ I am for men’s pleasure jus’ due to how I look. They have never praised me so much as king or prince.”

* * *

“You killed a man who was trying to hurt you,” Damen reminded him. “I do not want to be equated to Govart. I do not wish to be something you /endure/.” He was ready to get upset about it, but then Laurent smiled, his eyes hazy with drink, his cheeks flushed. All Damen wanted was to kiss that happy smile, to see Laurent like this without need of alcohol.

“That is because they think you would skin them alive,” Damen chuckled. “Without a crown, they can only see your beauty.” And Laurent was breathtaking. When he wore an earring? Untouchable. Something only for the richest of the rich.

Damen cocked a brow. “So are you saying you would like to play my pet more often?” Damen asked, amused. “Well, I like the way you acted that night,” he confessed. “And…I suppose some days I am jealous of Torvald even though I shouldn’t be. But I wish I could be the object of those attentions—even though I of course have so much more.”

* * *

“I knew you were jealous of Torvald,” Laurent smirked, laughter bubbling lazily in his chest. “You were so upset that night, and all after I did e’zactly what you asked of me.” Laurent did open his eyes for that to catch Damen’s reaction, but the world took off without him and he had to close them again. “You were so j—“

And then Laurent gasped, excitedly, clearly having been hit with an /idea/.

“Le’s go on a /trip/,” he smiled with abandon, eyes lit up and watery as could be with his current state. “We can...ride out like we used to, somewhere where people don’ know who we are, ‘n we can...play. Whatever we want.” He did a little flourish with his hand that then landed too heavily on Damen’s chest with a slap.

He got a laugh out of that, too.

* * *

“You were kissing him,” Damen muttered childishly. He was marrying Laurent, and yet he was still jealous of a visiting noble. Torvald was handsome, but surely he was /more/ handsome. His eyes lit up when Laurent’s did, unable to stop himself from smiling at such a joyous look on Laurent’s face.

As much as a trip probably wasn’t the best idea for the kingdom, Damen felt it could work. They could announce the competition and head somewhere closer to the sea where perhaps the winter wouldn’t be so biting. No one would suspect them there, and it would give Laurent some time away from the months of pressure he had endured alone.

He took Laurent’s hand as he chuckled, kissing the backs of his knuckles.

“Perhaps we can.” His lips lingered close to skin. “Was there anything else you wished to tell me?” he asked, thumbing the side of Laurent’s palm. “About…why you are still so tense with me?"

* * *

“I /was/ kissing him,” Laurent grinned, satisfied with himself and just how well he’d handled that night. It had been such an easy game, one that only Nicaise had even tried to squander, and even he had played right into it. Laurent remembered it quite fondly.

“But now /he/ is kissing that...blond boy you were close with.” Laurent genuinely did not remember much of Erasmus outside of what his uncle had done to him, and even then, Laurent had released him to the care of a good man. It was not worth learning his name over. Not when he was so focused on Damianos then.

Laurent turned his attention back to Damen then, along with his whole body, until he was rolled into his stomach, his arms crossed awkwardly at his chest and stuck between his body and the bed. It did not seem to bother him, though he could not say when the time he had been in a tangle of his /own/ limbs had last been.

“It’s all /control/, Damianos,” Laurent murmured, forcibly freeing one of his arms to touch Damen’s face. “All of it. I thought I was doing better, but—“ It seemed he had been mistaken.

“I had to do /this/ to just talk with you man-to-man.” Laurent laughed at himself, shook his head. “I really am a travesty of a man.”

* * *

Damen had all but forgotten Erasmus, but thinking of him then made him smile. The boy was probably having a life of luxury as Torvald’s pet, who had to be a great kisser if Laurent was even /mentioning/ it. Damen had to wonder how he compared.

“Try not to sound too jealous of who he is kissing,” Damen muttered, but he was smiling. Things had been so different between them then, but Damen remembered the surprise at Laurent’s help in saving Erasmus from the Regent—one of the first times Damen had wondered if he had misjudged Laurent.

“You are not a travesty,” Damen assured, tracing a finger along Laurent’s back, drawing small designs there with his touch. “You have been through trials I will never understand. Some kings of Akielos spent their lives in turmoil after wars that ended decades prior. Two years cannot erase an adolescence of wrongs.”

Sometimes Damen had to remind himself of that.

He kissed Laurent’s shoulder, nuzzling there gently.

“Do you have any suggestions for me to help you lose control?” he asked with a grin. “I would love to know."

* * *

Damen had a gracious point there - one that Laurent had known, but hearing Damen come to it himself, hearing Damen /understand/ it - meant so much to him. Even in his current state.

“Someday,” Laurent started, when it came to Damen’s question, “You will just have to take it.” The control. And Laurent did not mean that in a questionable way that he would definitely /never/ allow. He just meant that, some times, there would be things that Laurent wouldn’t /allow/ himself to do - wouldn’t allow himself the /time/ to do.

“I, unde—undeniab...ally, will /always/ want you.” There. He’d gotten that out. “If I am in a place where I do /not/, you will know it.”

“But I will /never/ be able to...prioritise our coupling over...king-ing.” Oh, Laurent was unraveling, tired with drink, as was to be expected of him. He was quite a lightweight. “I will /always/ choose to suffer in one way or the other. It will be your job to drag me out of that, like the giant animal you are.”

He went for a placating kiss to Damen’s nose, and fell short, falling face first into the pillow...and not really caring to move from there. He did, but it was sluggish.

* * *

And now his husband-to-be was sufficiently drunk enough that it was time for bed. Damen smiled, listening as Laurent explained what was wrong and that he would just have to take his control. Damen wasn’t sure that would go over well sober, but he supposed he could see what Laurent was getting at. Sometimes he was too passive, and allowed Laurent to take charge when they should probably not be doing any duties.

“Someday you may change your mind,” Damen chuckled. “You have never seen me trying to get your attention that way in public.” Laurent would probably try to kill him…which might lead to other things. Perhaps he would need to try it.

Damen sat up and rolled Laurent onto his back in a more comfortable position. “Rest now,” he murmured with a kiss to Laurent’s forehead. “I have some things to attend to, but I will return shortly.” He didn’t want to leave, but it would be worth it.

He did so love to surprise Laurent.

Damen cleaned up the wine and food (though he left a small plate at Laurent’s bedside), and gave him a few sweet kisses before tucking him into bed.

He sat beside him, smoothing back his hair to try to soothe him to sleep. “I will be here when you wake, I promise."

* * *

“Wher’re you going?” Laurent asked as Damen moved around him, tidying up and preparing to /attend to things/. What more was there to attend to? Laurent was right here! “What coul’ there posssibly be...possibly be to...what?”

He was tucked in, prepped for bed, even though it was hardly even nightfall! He wanted to argue, say that it was hardly time for /this/, but Laurent knew better. Even like this, he knew better.

“Don’t’ell Macedon,” Laurent murmured, squeezing the pillow closer to him, his legs splayed just a bit awkwardly on the mattress. “N’ don’t’ell Nikandrosss. They’ll n’ver let me...live this down...”

He held out his hand for Damen— which instantly flopped to the side of the bed. Laurent gave up on trying to right it.

“Be safe,” he told Damen. “I can’t...protect you like this.”

* * *

Damen draped his cloak around Laurent as another blanket before he left and kissed his cheek. Of course Laurent would be concerned with his protection—Damen was always surprised when he could feel even more love for someone he had already given his whole heart to.

He called for Pallas when he left the bedchamber, and asked Jord to check up on Laurent when he could. Pallas looked…younger than Damen remembered him. It made him smile to see him so full of life, and he supposed Laurent had been right, he and Lazar were getting closer. He still couldn’t believe he hadn’t seen it before.

It didn’t take long to find his way to the study he and Lauren had attempted to dine in earlier. Pallas stood inside, looking over the books.

“Exalted,” a servant announced. “Lady Vannes has arrived.”

“Send her in,” Damen said, looking over the portrait of Laurent as a child. He wanted to bring that back in him. He wanted Laurent to be confident, to have some fun in his life. Damen intended to give it to him.


	18. Part II: A Tonic for A King (5.4.20)

The prince’s - now king’s - guard had seen Laurent drunk only a handful of times now, and even as his closest in command, Jord found it quite shocking, to see him at such...peace? Such lack of control, truly. The trust to be one of the ones chosen to watch over him was unfathomable, but Jord had been doing it for many years now. He stood fast, took his duty seriously as Damen left and headed towards the main halls of the palace.

“I was summoned?” Lady Vannes asked, eyebrow quirked as she entered the study. She was instantly aware that the King - her king - was nowhere to be seen. One occurrence was permissible, but this? She approached with a little more caution.

“Exalted,” she said, butchering the Akielon, but it was not for lack of trying. Even Laurent had issues with the accent from time to time.

“Surely you have not undone him in such a way that he’s /allowing/ himself to slip,” she murmured in jest, testing the mood of the room. “He has such an issue with giving up control.”

* * *

Damen didn’t completely trust Lady Vannes, but this was going to be her test. She was the only one Laurent seemed to trust, so he had to do the same. And while it would not be ideal if she turned on him, this was a place where at least their kingdoms wouldn’t be affected.

“He does not know I’m here with you,” Damen said. At least she had tried using Akielon. “Honestly, I don’t know how he would feel about it. But I’m giving you the opportunity to win favor with me.” He wanted that to be obvious—he wanted everything obvious, because he was not Veretian.

“I need an excuse to take Laurent from Arles,” Damen said. “He is well, but has been so focused on the crown that I think he forgets that many kings are lazy.”

He offered the chair opposite him to Lady Vannes before he continued,

“I need a plan to convince him to leave, one that will not put the court in shambles. I was thinking to announce the competition with him, then take him away just after. As a surprise, a gift.” He looked at her then, chewing the inside of his cheek. “What do you think of that plan? Answer honestly, I do not tolerate Veretian tricks."

* * *

“You are marrying the most notable Veretian trick there is,” Lady Vannes countered as she took the seat, a thoughtful look on her face as she regarded Damen. She would never forego an opportunity to win favour with either king - especially when they would both also be the judges of the competition. Besides, she liked Laurent. The kid needed a break, and even she could see that.

“This is very Veretian of you, you know,” she added, delicately propping up her chin with her hand, eyes on Damianos. On /all/ of him that she could see.

“I can convince him to leave,” she shrugged, “but it will have to be with a /Veretian trick/, as you say. The council would never just let him go without a thousand different motives behind it.”

“I need two days,” she added with a wave of her hand, a confident little smirk. She quite liked making deals with the Akielon king. Having the two kings that ruled from northern to southern tip on her side was hardly a bad move on her part. “It will get you out of here before the worst of the storms hit. Will give you...four days’ time to return. Anything more than that would be asking me for a miracle.”

* * *

Damen’s eyes narrowed when Lady Vanne’s referred to Laurent as a Veretian trick. He didn’t think it appropriate to speak of her king that way. But he allowed it to pass and instead focused on what her plan was. Having two days seemed like it would be excruciating to wait through with Laurent in his current state, but he supposed time would be necessary.

“I want to know of your trick, then,” Damen countered. “I am tired of being in the dark in these matters. You have my cooperation, unless it negatively affects my image here, in Akielos, or for Laurent.” Surely that would help her succeed.

“Four days will be enough time,” he said with a nod. He felt as if he were negotiating a battle. Perhaps that was why it felt so easy.

“I don’t want fuss when we go. We will have a small group—the King’s Guard and some of my men. I do not want to be paraded away. If it would be something discrete enough that even Laurent could be surprised, you would have my gratitude."

* * *

It was a tall order, but Lady Vannes had every in and out Damianos lacked in the city. If anyone could get them out while also being trustworthy, it was her. Whether Damen would readily believe that or not.

“Align your return with passing of your decision for the competition,” she told Damen decisively, having already worked out the plan in her head. “It is a prideful event, and if the council sees it for their sake, they will be blinded by pride before they question the hunting party.”

“Of course, that means someone /will/ need to bring a boar..."

There would be enough men left over in the kingdom. Or, Damen’s party could branch out with a few extra men specifically for boar hunting. It sounded as if the Akielon king had a plan for where he wished to take Laurent, and that this was not just a leisurely break from palace duties.

“It will be a lot of set up and will take a considerable amount of time from my planning for the competition, but...anything for his - and your - majesties.” She ducked her head in a bow. “Are there any other miracles you would have me work for you?”

* * *

“A boar will be easy,” Damen said, looking to Pallas, who grinned wide. “While we do not prefer hunting in winter, Akielons are expert trackers. The snow will make the job easier.” Damen sat back a moment. “Though I do believe Laurent would be itching for a hunt. Pallas, perhaps you can track one ahead of time, then Laurent and I will meet you on our return and Laurent can fell the boar.”

Damen didn’t like the danger of boar hunting, but Laurent had been forced to sit out on the hunt in Marlas.

“The hunt can be used to allow uninterrupted policy creation,” Damen mused. “In exchange for your help, I will provide you with a list of the men who know their regions best, so you may have a more encompassing view of Akielos than other might receive asking one or two.”

It was more than a fair trade, in his eyes.

“If you have a Veretian cure for drink, I might like to use it,” Damen chuckled. “Laurent deprives himself of fine wine, but I do not. I believe he intends to entertain me properly this evening, and I do not want my head clouded tomorrow.”

Lying wasn’t so hard when he was protecting Laurent, he found.

* * *

It was a fair and valuable trade - definitely cheating on Vannes’ side, but she hardly was against the king’s assistance if she had truly worked for it. She would quite like to be the first woman councilmen to have the /kings/ of the country to visit her home, to celebrate her genius, and any help she got along the way would only assist in actualising that goal.

“A pleasure to be of assistance, Exalted,” she smiled, thinking this was over, but what Damen asked next seem to interest her perhaps even more than the offer just before it. A /glimpse/ into the private lives of the kings. The voyeur in her couldn’t deny the intrigue in it.

“I will have it sent up to you,” she assured him. “Menthe based. A little spicy. It’s quite nice. I have benefitted from it for years.” She smiled. “But I would ask for one more bit knowledge in return.”

She leaned forward, just into earshot of Damen, only catching eyes with Pallas when he shifted, unsure. It was a valiant reaction, but she meant the king no harm.

“I ask you to tell me how he likes it,” she whispered eagerly, a strong suggestive tone that suggested she would heavily benefit from the information. “Position. Pace. I don’t mind. In return for the tonic.”

* * *

Damen didn’t want to indulge Lady Vannes at all, and the Akielon in him smarted at the idea of sharing such intimate details with someone he hardly knew. But he was in Vere and had to remind himself that this was commonplace. And if the tables were turned, he was /sure/ Laurent would throw details out about him just to see him blush and to get the court talking.

Tomorrow would be a day of kingly duties, and Laurent would have to be part of it. Damen didn’t want him to look or feel ill from getting himself drunk in the middle of the day. Her question was simple, but Damen didn’t quite know how to respond. He knew what Laurent liked, but today had proved there was much more for him to learn.

“Slow,” Damen said, cheeks flushing despite himself.

That was all he was going to give her. He stood then, offering his hand in the traditional Veretian way for her to kiss. He didn’t like it, but Laurent would probably kill him if he found out Damen had told Lady Vannes about anything between them without requiring her to do /something/ unpleasant.

“Have the tonic delivered to our chambers at once,” Damen said. “I would rather have it on hand.”

He nodded and took his leave, heading quickly back toward his chambers. Pallas followed at his side, and Damen spoke with him about how the men were doing.

“They are well, but I think they would benefit from seeing you,” Pallas said. “Some were concerned during the competition, and we have not seen you since. I will tell them you are well, of course.”

Damianos nodded. “I will come to dinner this evening, and hope to have all of the Akielons there who wish to be.”

Pallas headed off to announce the news as Damen approached. He nodded to Jord and slipped inside to go to Laurent, sitting at his bedside. He still looked so innocent. So sweetly oblivious to the world. Damen loved him dearly.

* * *

It was as if Lady Vannes had been given the answer to the riddle of the Sphinx. Her eyes lit up with the knowledge she’d be given, a sly smile that suggested she’d known all along. There was value in knowing the private lives of royalty. Contrary to Damen’s beliefs, it was not malice or ill-intent that spurred Vannes to ask of these details. It was merely that her having that knowledge over everyone else put her in closer to the kings than any other council member of Vere. Damen had given her gold in return for a child’s remedy - one that would never work on someone the size of Damen, but on someone of Laurent’s size - whom Lady Vannes /knew/ it was for - it would work just fine.

“I’ll have my girls mix and deliver it at once,” she assured Damen with a proper kiss to his hand, a short curtsy.

She was good on her word.

Laurent had not even stirred under Damen’s gaze before Jord stepped in, carrying a bottle of green liquid. It was not unlike that which Laurent had given him for the drug, but the colour was slightly more muddy...and it bubbled gently, though the bottle did not feel warm. Similar ingredients, then.

“Lady Vannes sends this for his majesty,” Jord announced softly, handing it over to Damen. “You can trust it, Exalted. She worked alongside Paschal for many months after the war, and she and his majesty have always had a...bond.” Not good, not bad, but...a bond. It was a safe way to address it.

“He should also drink it slowly—“

Jord turned sharply to the door where, small and peeking through the opening, was Lucien, offering what help he could.

“Lucien—“ Jord started, but the boy ducked away with an apology. Jord turned back to Damen with a similar expression on his face, head bowed.

“Apologies, Exalted,” Jord managed to chuckle. “I do not think I have yet mastered the idea of...head of guard /and/ master of pet. I cannot say there have been many men before me to pass down such helpful clues.”

* * *

Damen wasn’t trying to wake Laurent until he had his cure. Besides, he wanted to admire him awhile longer. He pulled up his cloak around Laurent, smiling to himself. He hoped Lady Vannes wouldn’t use what he had told her against him. He wasn’t even sure it was completely true anyway, Laurent was very curious to try a much rougher type of lovemaking and perhaps he would like that more once he settled down and allowed himself to relax.

Jord entered and Damen was concerned for a moment until he saw that Jord was holding a vial of liquid. He was also concerned about taking a liquid from someone he did not fully know, and Jord seemed to fully understand that already as he approached.

He looked up in alarm when he noticed movement at the door, but it was only Lucien. Damen could see why Laurent had a soft spot for the boy—he had big, curious eyes that were both warm and trustworthy at the same time. His dark hair and olive skin were like Damen’s, so perhaps that was also part of it.

“If anyone can navigate such a path, it would be you,” Damen replied, taking the vial. Ever since he had been enslaved, it was hard for him to find the lines between royalty and…something else. A king wasn’t supposed to be involved with the welfare of slaves or pets or even the guards, yet Damen felt personally responsible to every one of his men, and every one of his people. He couldn’t _not_ care about them.

“Would it be helpful to have time with him today?” Damen asked, absently taking Laurent’s hand with his free one and holding it in his lap. Today he wanted everyone to feel the love he did for Laurent. “I can call my guards to watch the doors. They have been itching for something to do, I’m sure.” That, and Lazar was probably itching for some/one/ to do.

“I will leave it up to you,” he said, turning to Laurent. “I will see if Laurent is going to dinner this evening, but unless he is feeling unwell, I will be attending. Otherwise, I do not anticipate leaving.”

He reached out to caress Laurent’s cheek, gently trying to wake him.

“My love,” he said softly. “I have something that will help you feel better. Would you like to drink it now? I think you should."

* * *

Jord would never pick a pet - even his own - over the king. He’d done that once, in so many ways, and he’d ended up being told he’d misjudged terribly. Aimeric had not been a pet, but he’d been just as lovely, as kind....

Laurent groaned, most likely from Damianos trying to wake him, but Jord felt the timing was too perfect for Laurent to /not/ be judging his thoughts, so he bowed out. He could take time to get to know Lucien better later. He’d nursed him back to health, after all. He clearly had time with the boy.

Damen had kept Laurent eating while he drank, but when he opened his eyes a sliver and looked around, he shook his head and closed his eyes right back shut.

“M’still drunk,” he mumbled, taking hold of the corner of Damen’s cloak and pulling it up to his chin, curling into his betrothed. “Feel...fine. Jus’—“

Jord closed the door behind them, leaving them alone.

Laurent stuck his hand out from the cover a second later, ready to grasp the bottle he’d seen Damen holding in those few wavy second his eyes had been open.

“I’ve had better ideas,” he murmured with a chuckle, sounding much more sober that time around, but smart enough not to say that he fully was. It would take a few more hours, but he’d probably come out on the other side without vomiting.

* * *

Damen hadn’t expected Laurent to be sober, but it was good that he was just groggy and not feeling ill. He put an arm around him, smoothing his fingers through Laurent’s hair and smiling down at him. He couldn’t wait to surprise him with a trip, an outlet to play one of their games together, to find things out about each other that would make everything that much better when they were finally married.

He chuckled. “Yes, I was rather shocked to find you downing wine when I returned from court.” He added a pillow above Laurent’s head. “Sit up, darling. You must drink this slowly.”

He hoped this bottle didn’t taste as horrible as what he had been forced to drink a few days prior.

Once he made sure Laurent was in a position to properly drink, he gave him the bottle to sip from. “Slowly,” he reminded Laurent, and tried not to think about what he had told Lady Vannes. “How are you feeling, truly?"

* * *

Laurent made a noncommittal noise in his agreement that almost was his way of communicating that he was just as shocked as Damen was, but he didn’t have the cognizance to actually relay that in the moment. Not while he was both trying to sit and /stay/ up.

“I am much better than I was last time I did this.” The Okton. It had been over a year since Laurent had last been drunk, well over a year since he’d had any sort of drink that wasn’t a juice or a water.

If the tonic tasted terribly, Laurent’s expression didn’t show it. He sipped it as instructed, a sluggish hand reaching up to brush his own hair behind his ear. He had been warm in his sleep, undoubtedly from the wine, and it had caused him to sweat.

Damen was still here, that was something he did note. He’d not run off with what Laurent had to say, did not seem to love Laurent any less due to it. That sat well enough with Laurent for him to believe they did not need to discuss it further, and he hoped Damen agreed.

“You never told me how court went,” Laurent murmured, and it came out a little mush-mouthed, but it was more or less discernible. “I see you made it back.”

* * *

“Yes, you are,” Damen agreed with a smile. He didn’t think he would ever see Laurent so drunk again, but he hadn’t expected it the first time either. It was for the best—Laurent didn’t hold alcohol very well, even if he could consume a dangerous amount in a short while. As much as Damen loved to drink his wine, he didn’t particularly enjoy becoming drunk when Laurent was around—though he did do it on occasion.

Damen sighed at mention of court. “They wanted to press me about where you were, but then got fighting about the competition. Of course, they all toed the line of disrespect the entire meeting. Just enough that I could not fault them for it.” He grit his teeth, unexpectedly angry about it all over again.

“I despise Mathe,” he growled. “I am sure he will lose this competition, but I’m not sure what I will do if he manages to win.”

He looked away, recollecting the way Mathe had looked at him with so much contempt—barely hidden behind a guise of politeness.

“I promised Pallas I would attend dinner. Do you think you will join me?"

* * *

Sometimes, Damianos just /found/ the way straight to Laurent’s rarely discovered funny bone, and the preposterous idea that /Mathe/ could /win/ at /any/ competition got Laurent right where it mattered.

His whole back arched with the laugh, hand splayed over his chest, right on the border of cackling, but it seemed he was /just/ sober enough to fully fall over the edge of hysterics. But the idea was still quite funny! Mathe had not even properly won his seat in the council. He’d cheated by buying in, undoubtedly promising his uncle a plethora of young pets in return for a say in what happened in the kingdom, and the Regent had so needed more people who thought like him - and what a good place to find common ground!

Laurent didn’t have any /recent/ proof of Mathe’s exploits, but he was vigilant, always watching, /waiting/ for him to slip up.

But Laurent also knew Mathe couldn’t win because the policy Laurent wanted to come out of this deal was something that went directly against Mathe’s beliefs, interests and, if Laurent was correct, his livelihood. It was a lot to put on one competition, but there was one contender he believed in.

When Laurent came down from the laughter - which may have been well before he came to again - he blinked owlishly up at Damen, replacing himself in the conversation.

“I can attend dinner,” he accepted, checking over at the shutters to see where the sun might be. From the cool toned glow of the winter sun softly emanating from the slats, ha surmised he had a couple of hours before he would need to face anyone. “I s’pose it is time we all ate as a family.”

But only when Laurent could pass being ill from drink for a mere ache in his head, something uncomfortable only.

“Unless you and Pallas had some special plan for dinner?”

* * *

Damen seldom heard a sound so wonderful as Laurent’s laugh. He loved that sound, all the pent up joy that released with it. He smiled, unable to stop himself from laughing softly along with Laurent, though he didn’t completely understand what was so funny. Probably Mathe, because he knew Laurent didn’t like him either.

A family.

Damen didn’t think he’d ever heard Laurent use that term to describe them, and it sounded strange. Not unpleasant at all, but strange. When he thought of family he still thought of his father and Kastor, and now Cosmas. Laurent seemed in another realm, a different kind of intimacy he wasn’t ready to yet replace with the word “family,” even though Laurent was undoubtedly his family now.

Damen shook his head. “No special plan. We haven’t been present together since the competition, and Pallas mentioned that some of my men noticed I was acting a bit strangely. I want to be sure they don’t think something is wrong.”

And for the moment—one fleeting moment—nothing /was/ wrong.

“Drink slowly,” he reminded Laurent. “I had a very hard time finding that for you without alerting Paschal."

* * *

“We have been quite busy,” Laurent offered, taking a deep sip of the bottle before heeding Damen’s warning and slowing down. This was a drink more easily chugged than sipped. The flavour was not unpleasant, but it’s aftertaste was something quite awful, and downing the whole bottle and only experiencing said aftertaste /once/ would be preferred, but there were rules to follow.

“Oh, this is a Vannes Tonic,” Laurent responded knowledgeably, tapping the bottle twice with the index finger of the hand still holding it. “Paschal would never make this for me. He thinks...the medicinal herb used in this is...cheap and dangerous.”

“Though I’m sure you paid a /lot/ in personal information for the cheap herb, didn’t you?” Laurent teased, his voice thinning right at the end when his head started in on a little ringing. He could use more rest.

“You need not have bothered yourself hunting her down for this,” Laurent told Damen after another sip. Damen’s shoulder looked awfully supportive, and Laurent perched his head right atop it as it became too heavy for him to hold up on his own. Damen was strong - he could handle Laurent’s head.

Well, he could handle /this/, anyway.

Laurent closed his eyes, comfortable in his little resting spot there.

“How did you even know to go to Vannes?” Laurent asked quietly. “She probably had her pet beneath her skirt tending to her excitement when you summoned her. She is such a strong supporter of yours. She desires you in /many/ ways.”

* * *

Cheap and dangerous. Damen was both embarrassed and fuming. He’d been tricked, and he’d fallen completely for it, revealing information for what he’d thought would be an effective solution to Laurent’s problem without alerting anyone in medicine. Jord hadn’t said anything either, and that somehow made Damen feel doubly stupid.

“And here I thought I was learning to navigate this place,” Damen muttered, now angry at himself. He should have been more careful—Laurent could have been in danger!

“I wanted to make you feel better,” he said quietly, resting his cheek against Laurent’s head. He didn’t particularly like hearing that his suspicions about Lady Vannes were true, but he supposed that could be useful for the future if he really wanted to get Veretian.

“I summoned her because I think it time I at least tried to make allies in Veretian court. Seeing as she is your favorite, I wrongly assumed she could be trusted to do more than the minimal,” Damen growled. He turned to Laurent, recognizing exhaustion in his voice.

“Come and rest,” Damen said, kissing his head. “Lie back on your pillows, I’ll rid myself of these boots and join you."

* * *

“You went to the right person,” Laurent reassured Damen, placing a supportive hand on his bicep...and then not letting go for a few seconds. He would always value how strong Damen was, looked, and /felt/. “The drug is cheap and dangerous, but that does not mean it does not work. In fact, it will work more quickly and more effectively than anything Paschal could have given you.” He kissed Damen’s shoulder and leaned back against the pillows as Damen shifted to remove his boots, to get comfortable.

“You /are/ learning to navigate,” he promised his beloved, his eyes slipping closed as he adjusted to lying down again. “You did well, Damen.”

“The drug just has stigmas around it and Paschal thinks it is an uncivilised drug. I’m not prideful enough to choose what drug I take over expelling my guts in front of my kingdom.”

Oh, the rumours /that/ would start.

The short of it was that Vannes had done right, Damen had done right, and Laurent would feel better. It was an all around victory.

Laurent just wondered what Damen had given for the drug. Vannes was his favourite, but she would never just give something up for free when she could gain something from it. Laurent made to ask, but instead, he found himself much more interested in Damen crawling back into bed. So much so, that he even let out a soft little, “Damen....” as an invitation, wanting his warmth, his closeness back to him.

* * *

Damen set out removing his boots, tossing them in a heap a few feet away. He didn’t feel like doing any more than he had to as king at the moment, and he didn’t feel like much of a king anyway. The last thing he needed was the Veretian court finding out that he had given Laurent an uncivilized drug—he’d been so foolish! Lady Vannes had laid a perfect trap for a barbaric Akielon, and Damen had walked right in.

If she didn’t spring said trap, she probably knew he would figure out about it, and that mean she had gained power. Far more than he’d been willing to give.

He stood beside the bed, feeling exhausted himself. He dropped his clothes, not wanting any cloth between him and Laurent this time. Just as his chiton fell, he heard Laurent utter his name in a way he couldn’t remember hearing expect maybe once when Laurent had taken ill.

“I’m here,” he found himself saying, all but running to the bed. He crawled beneath the covers, pulling Laurent to his chest and holding him tight as though they had been separated for months instead of hours. He kissed Laurent’s hair as he rested back into the pillows to let Laurent lay more comfortably on his chest.

“Did I really do well?” he asked a moment later, rubbing Laurent’s back. “I feel as though I have been made a fool of."

* * *

Laurent was undeniably still a little drunk if the way he accepted Damen back into bed indicated anything. He pressed right into Damen, flush and touching from chest to toes. His hand found the broadest part of Damen - his chest - and rested there, the other stuffed between them, fingers laid against his own collar bone. And he /preened/, nuzzled Damen like a cat for a moment so brief, it could have been imagined. It was....soft. And then, he was still, listening again.

“You really did do well,” Laurent promised his beloved with a soft, satisfied tone, praising him with a soft kiss to his pec. It was the closest thing to his lips. “You are learning your way around the conventions of the kingdom, and that is equally as important. Remember: there are none who function in straight lines in Vere.” Damen had made the adage himself in so many words.

Unconsciously, Laurent preened against Damen again, placed another kiss to his chest before turning in his arms, slotting against Damen’s strong body at his back, warmer, more comfortable, and more intimate.

“I did a lot of talking today,” Laurent murmured, holding Damen’s arms around him, revelling in the skin to skin. “I do believe you have information you should share with me. Like...what you would desire of /me/ in bed. Desires you wish I would comply to. I have learned a lot on my own but...don’t make me work for it right now.”

* * *

Damen shivered just slightly when Laurent’ lips pressed to his pec, thinking all too much about Laurent piercing his nipples. He sincerely hoped that he could get what he wanted out of the exchange and be inside of Laurent during. After being apart for so long he was still remembering what it was like to be with him without thinking of sex, and Laurent didn’t make it easy with how he was nuzzling and moving all over his naked body, skin to skin.

The praise warmed him almost more than Laurent’s body, and Damen felt himself grow drowsy both with want of sleep and with desire. He always wanted Laurent, and it was hard not to have him whenever he wanted, but he understood that, as Laurent had said earlier, being king would always take priority.

“I would not make you comply with anything,” Damen said first, kissing Laurent’s temple.

“I honestly don’t know what I desire of you,” he continued. “You’re complicated, unlike anyone I have every been with.” He rested his head back against the pillows, trying to think about it. He was always just excited to be with Laurent, he didn’t desire to be with him a certain way.

“I would like you to be more forward,” Damen said decidedly. “As you know, I am straightforward. You say you always desire me, but you never say it to me. I think…I think I would very much like for you to demand to be bedded, or for you to tease me as you did at the inn.”

“I hope you aren’t…afraid isn’t the right word— _uncomfortable_ with the idea of doing that. And I hope you don’t fear that I will deny you. I would never deny you wanting me. I think it…”

He trailed off, not wanting tp upset Laurent, but it was time to be honest.

“I think it may help ease you if you would initiate more often,” Damen said. “I would like that very much, and it’s different than my coaxing you into lovemaking. I think you would enjoy it.”

He cleared his throat then. “And. Well. I would also like to pleasure you with my mouth as I did before. More often. And perhaps…if you would ever allow it, I would enjoy the attention of your mouth.”

Yes, he was marrying Laurent, but that did not keep his ears from burning at his suggestion.

* * *

They were, all of them, pretty easy desires to handle. Laurent supposed he could /initiate/ it more often, but that would involve finding a moment where Damen was not already blatantly wanting him, touching him, just /waiting/ for Laurent to give in. Laurent took pride in how often Damen desired to bed him, and being more forward than /that/ would be a time endeavour, but Laurent though it was something he could do. To /want/ something outwardly.

Laurent let out a little chuckle when he recalled, only a moment ago, Damen had called him ‘complicated,’ and it tickled Laurent when it processed. He took great pride in /that/ as well.

In any other state, Laurent would have flushed at Damen’s further desire. Damen’s mouth had been something so new to Laurent in the way he had used it. To have someone pleasure him just to pleasure him had been a lot - a task with no benefits for Damen, and yet he had done it freely, and Laurent had /liked/ it. It had put him in a strange place, had made him feel a way he /never/ had before, and it had been a little frightening - to feel himself pleasure and free of expectation - but weren’t all things with Damen a little scary?

If Laurent didn’t know any better, he would say a lot of the fear he always confessed to Damen about stemmed from his betrothed last ability to take him apart. Somewhere in there was a man that would be Laurent’s /complete/ undoing, and it was just lurking, waiting to take all control from Laurent. Laurent still didn’t know how he felt about that.

It was a thought for later.

For now, Laurent could feel that /Damen/ had heated up against his back - the tell tale sign of his own blush!

“Have you gone red, Damianos?” Laurent asked with a little smile, not even turning around to look at Damen. He wanted to, but he didn’t need to. “At the thought of your mouth on me? Or my mouth on you?”

Laurent was still working on the whole ‘using his mouth’ bit. It seemed silly to come around to everything else and not /that/, but when could very well end with choking and drooling, and Laurent found it a bit...embarrassing still. And dangerous.

He would work it out. He’d done it once, and he could do it again.

He just couldn’t get himself to at /this/ moment.

“Do not make me call /you/ virginal,” Laurent countered instead and, oh, was he warm under the blankets with Damen. He pressed back into him, let out a little contented sigh as he brought Damen’s knuckles up to his mouth for a kiss—

And then - and maybe it was the drink mixed with this sudden surge of pride - Laurent moved Damen’s hand around, loosened out his index finger and took it into his mouth, simulating playfully for only a moment what he could not get his body to do otherwise.

* * *

Damen only flushed harder when Laurent called out his blush, and he chuckled sheepishly. “Your mouth on me, of course,” he said, unable to stop the heat at his cheeks. “I take great pride in putting my mouth on you, and would never be embarrassed to do it.” He paused. “Well, if you had me do it at our consummation. Then I would probably refuse there.”

Maybe. He wanted others to see Laurent as a king who could be pleasured, not just someone frigid and distant. Akielos needed to see him this way, otherwise he was untrustworthy in their eyes. Sex wouldn’t be the way to do that, but discussing with the Veretians as they gossiped about it might help.

He grinned as Laurent teased him, not thinking much about his hand being brought up for a kiss, nor when Laurent loosened his fing--

He sucked in a gasp as Laurent’s mouth closed around the length of his finger, warm and wet. His tongue moved across his skin and Damen shifted, lips parted in silent shock. He had no doubt Laurent could feel him responding beneath him, and he honestly wasn’t trying to, but Laurent just had this effect on him.

“If you are not intending to make love before dinner, I suggest you stop driving me mad with desire,” Damen chuckled. “But if you do, by all means, continue. You will not have to wait long."

* * *

Laurent did not know if that was his intention, to try to have Damen make love to him before dinner. Really, Laurent should eat before he tried to do anything physical like that. They were always slow, and it wasnt as if he would be moved to sickness, but he should be careful. One bout of nausea could ruin everything they had built up to so far today. But it wasnt like he had gagged on Damen’s finger yet, and even that was huge.

Oh, he lost track of how long he’d had Damen’s finger in his mouth.

He popped it out with a swirl of his tongue, chuckled deep in his chest as he held Damen’s arm to him. He had felt every reaction Damen had had to him and…well, it felt right to tease - like a game! So Laurent turned his neck, pressed a kiss to Damen’s jaw with his reddened lips and asked, “Will we be leaving for dinner soon? I feel as if food would not be a terrible idea for my self-preservation right now.”

He may have just insulted Damen, especially when Damen had just asked Laurent to be more vocal about wanting him, but this was much more fun. He would have Damen, but he really should be smart about it right now. He was just a little loose with his emotions and thoughts right now, and that could lead him to acting in a way he would regret down the line if he wasn’t in more control. He would eat, he would settle, and then he would have Damen. He had it all planned out.

* * *

Damen thought he might go mad with lust right then an there with the way Laurent was sucking on his finger like a pet in the gardens. Even so, he knew Laurent was still slightly intoxicated, and likely not thinking more than he was teasing. Maybe. It was always so hard to tell with Laurent. Damen’s skin was hot for a different reason when Laurent kissed his cheek.

“A few hours yet,” Damen said, his voice thick. He closed his eyes, trying his best not to imagine Laurent’s mouth over his cock and what that might feel like.

“I plan to sleep, seeing as you don’t wish to be bedded,” he murmured, shifting so that Laurent was more comfortably resting against him. It wouldn’t take him long to find rest—court had exhausted him, and the cold drained him even further.

“Jord will fetch us,” he murmured, nosing into Laurent’s hair. “Rest a little longer with me."

* * *

Laurent could have done more. Willingly and enthusiastically. If Damen would stay awake, Laurent would have taken those few hours yet to really ruin him, to do as Damen had asked, but such instant gratification would not be fitting. And besides, Laurent really should sober up. For Damen. So that he knew this was genuine, so that he knew Laurent meant it.

So Laurent turned with Damen’s coaxing, comfortably positioned in his arms. Laurent never slept this much, but something told him Damen didn’t either. Damen deserved it, the rest, and if he was going to pin Laurent down with him, than he might as well rest with his beloved. It would be time to turn back to diplomacy soon enough.

Too soon, if Laurent were being honest.

He slept with Damen for a few hours more, and when Jord did step in to fetch them, Laurent was /fully/ sobered, stuck with only the ebbing of a headache thanks to Damen’s care. He burrowed his face in Damen’s chest, groaned softly before lifting his head, indicating Jord had done his job of waking them.

“Do you require attendance, your majesty?” Jord asked. “With your clothing?”

“Not this evening,” Laurent dismissed, kissing Damen’s chest to wake him. “You’re dismissed,” he told Jord, his full attention on Damianos.

“You are the one who agreed to dine with the palace,” Laurent grumbled as a reminder to Damen.

* * *

Sleeping came easily for Damen after that. His mind felt as though it was working as it did in war, and taking a small sleep was something desperately needed after being on edge around the whole court. Laurent was a salve to his frayed nerves, and Damen was thankful to have him. He slept so much better when Laurent was in bed with him.

Waking was a slow process, and Damen felt weight down by his body, by the thought of going to dinner. But he was ready to show Laurent off. In fact, it gave him an idea.

“What if you attended me?” Damen murmured, his voice thick with sleep. “If I wore Veretian clothing and you wore Akielon?” He so wanted to see Laurent in a chiton again. He was still dazzled upon seeing those blue eyes so up close.

He leaned his head forward, capturing Laurent’s lips in a sweet kiss. He loved him so much, it made his heart warm.

“I love you,” he whispered. “My heart is yours. I think…it may even be time for me to don something blue. What do you say?"


	19. Part II: Arriving At The Inn (12.4.20)

Laurent might have flushed at the offer if he had not been so groggy with recovery. The idea definitely enticed him, and he smiled at the very thought of it. Attending Damen was something he had only done last in Sicyan, and it had been quite thrilling. He had owed it to Damen then. Laurent supposed he still owed it to him now.

They /had/ crafted him many a fine Veretian outfit…

After their little kiss, Laurent pushed himself out of the bed and went to the trunk, still naked and unbothered by the cold.

“I had nothing made for you in blue,” he murmured in realization as he pushed through the chest of their clothing, lifting shirts and jackets and moving them around. Red on Damen’s side, blue on his own. Laurent frowned a himself to not have had this foresight.

Well, not all things always fell into place.

“Arise,” Laurent ordered, already missing the point of the whole attending thing. He wasn’t there yet, he’d just woken up, and character was hard to find. He was doing everything else right, pulling out the fine red cloth of Damen’s jacket, his undershirt, his black pants, all dressed in gold laces. Laurent never really took in how daunting it all was until he was the one responsible for it. It would take forever….but Damen did look so wonderful in Veretian garb.

* * *

“We’ll have to commission something then,” Damen replied cheerfully, though he was still groggy. Sleeping during daylight hours always seemed to affect him worse than waking in the morning. He wasn’t sure how he would look in blue—the color was so “Laurent” so him. But with the right tailor, he was sure something wonderful could be made. Maybe he would be able to surprise Laurent with it on the feasting days leading up to their wedding.

“But you had clothes made for me,” Damen said smiling. The colors were rich with Veretian dyes and as he stood in the chilly air he was (for once) thankful that he would have full layers all over him. Of course, his statement was a little foolish because he’d had clothes made for Laurent. They weren’t exactly fitting for winter, but he’d been imagining Laurent in thin summer silks since he’d last seen him in a chiton.

“Mine for you are rather thin for the weather,” Damen admitted. “But perhaps you could wear my cloak, replace my lion with your star.”

He slid into the undershirt and jacket, and worked his way into the pants. They did look quite nice on him, he had to admit. He wasn’t sure he’d ever worn something so black, just dark stained leather and grey.

“I handpicked the blue thread, and the gold is true that catches the light nicely. Better in summer, but I am sure you will wear it wonderfully regardless.

* * *

Laurent did not know if it was a good idea to leave his chambers in Akielon clothing. It wasn’t so much that he thought it revealing or unfitting - but he felt it was…unfitting and reveling for /him/. He was not sure how his people would respond to seeing that…much of him. It would be comfortable, that was for sure, and would be blessedly easy to get on and off, which he could very much use right now, but…well, it would be a statement. Laurent did not mind making those.

Damen was certainly making a statement of his own, with the dark red sleeves, the fine fabrics, the high collar. Laurent did hate to cover him, but if he had to, he supposed he preferred it be in the look he had chosen for Damen.

“I have a winter cloak I can pair with it,” Laurent murmured, tying the laces at Damen’s throat. “Plenty of brooches, as well. I am sure it will look wonderful with your creation."

Laurent worked the laces more deftly than Damen had ever been trained to do, tying Damen up - and tight - into his garments. He started with the arms, then the front of his jacket, and then Laurent sank down to lace up his boots, tall and climbing to Damen’s mid-calf. Then, saving the best for last, Laurent tied up the laces at Damen’s groin. He pulled tight - too tight, just for fun - and trapped Damen in his pants, completing the full look. His golden crown in the Akielon style went surprisingly well with the ensemble, and Damen looked…strange, but regal all the same. The Veretians would surely see him as /king/ in this, if they had missed that before.

Laurent stood back to look at his handiwork, still completely nude in his own right. Damen looked ravishing, wrapped up in swaths of Charls’ finest. There was a lot of gold, hand-spun in silks unaffordable by those not of great royalty. Laurent reached out, ran his finger down the silken laces.

“Attractive,” Laurent praised with a soft smile.

* * *

Damen only noticed Laurent was still nude when he’d moved away from his face, when Damen was no longer captivated by the blue of his eyes and they way they were focused so intently on his job. Laurent made a beautiful attendant. His skin still showed faint marks where Damen had put his mouth on him days before, and he longed to make new ones, to always have Laurent decorated with signs of their lovemaking.

Laurent made him look slow and bumbling with how fast he worked Damen’s laces. They were tight and restricting in a way Damen had forgotten, but it did give him a different look. It wasn’t a bad one, just different.

He grunted when Laurent tugged those laces /tight/ at his groin, but then he was being admired, and Damen couldn’t help but puff his chest just a bit at that. He did so like Laurent’s approval.

“Yes, you are,” Damen purred at Laurent’s comment, puling him in for a kiss. It was impossible not to press their lips together in moments like this, and he found himself wishing there was a way to be even more intimate in the short time they had for each other.

“And for you,” Damen said, striding past Laurent to his own trunk. He crouched, humming to himself as he sifted through bolts off fine silk and cloth until he found the garment he was looking for. The silk was a rare pure white, the embroidery depicting shapes that were made to resemble the shape of a lion’s mane decorated with stars. He left it simple, a suggestion, not wanting Laurent to feel like he must wear Damen’s crest when they were not yet married.

Damen offered the chiton with a sheepish smile. “Do you like it?"

* * *

The chiton was beautiful, it was without question. Fine work had gone into it, and the silk was something so fine, Laurent could not say he had any quite like it. He held it between his fingers, rubbed the silk together while looking over the embroidery.

These were not clothes, but they would be very comfortable.

“Did you mean for it to be so short?” Laurent asked, holding the chiton up to himself….and then turning it and doing so again…and then going for a third time. He really could yet to understand these things. It had about two whole ties on it, but otherwise, there was no structure. It was still something he had to learn.

Either way, he could tell it would be short.

“Someone outdid themselves,” Laurent ended up smiling, holding the chiton to himself in hopes Damen would step in and take charge of the fabric. “And I think it is beautiful."

* * *

Damen chuckled, blushing just slightly as Laurent held up the chiton. He’s had it shortened just a bit from his last one, because he’d been so taken by the bit of thigh he’d been able to see. With the tall Akielon style of boot Damen had brought (one that matched all of the chitons), it would leave only a tantalizing slip of skin for him to lust after. And he /would/ lust.

“I wanted all eyes to be on you,” Damen admitted. “That way when we return to our bedchamber I will have what all of them wanted but never will touch when I lift your hem.”

He held the fabric for Laurent, draping it around him and making practiced work of the ties. He’d had them made of a sturdier thread, something that would not easily break and fall open. Damen would gouge out the eyes of anyone who saw his beloved without clothing if Laurent had not allowed it.

Damen couldn’t help but run his palms up Laurent’s thighs, up the curve of his flank, expertly curving a finger to gently tease Laurent’s entrance, just to remind him of how easily accessible he was.

“Know I will be very jealous of that hemline,” Damen purred. “I will send for your boots, then we will be ready."

* * *

Damen got himself properly swatted at for that roaming finger, a hard smack right in the bicep that alerted Jord. He called out for Laurent who, laughing, assured Jord he was quite alright. He went in for a kiss not a moment later, telling Damen to behave himself pointedly.

And Damen did. He behaved himself as well as Laurent had expected, maybe even more so. Laurent thought it would be fun, their little switching of wardrobe, but Damen was in the defence the whole of the night. Laurent could feel it in his grip, in his posture, could see it in his eyes. People were staring at Laurent, and it was causing quite a stir.

Otherwise, dinner was simple. Laurent did not get too cold, and by the end of it, he was pleasantly full, hand clasped in Damen’s as they headed back to the bedroom—

And Laurent did /not/ let Damen touch him.

Damen was up to something, and Laurent could sense it - he had seen it had the dinner, during the talk of a boar. Of a hunt, brought up by Lady Vannes. He was /so obviously/ up to something, and Laurent could play that game just as well.

And so Damen stayed celibate for two days, only able to view Laurent in his Chiton and not touch. Laurent kept him in good spirits with winks and touches of his own, but on the night where he almost bent to his own ploy, Laurent found himself actually packing for a hunt. Laurent found himself woken early the next morning, his belongings gathered, his horse prepared. He waited until they were alone to ask:

“What is going on?”

* * *

Damen was being punished for hiding a secret, but he didn’t care too much. He got to see Laurent in his chiton, tantalized by the way it rode up just enough to make his breath catch, but never too far. Charls had outdone himself, and all of Vere and Akielos marveled. Staying celibate was difficult when Laurent decided to be particularly teasing, but he was more than willing to suffer for his surprise.

He met with Lady Vannes once more in secret, just to finalize the day they would be leaving. Talk of the boar was spreading, morphing with rumors into something of a legendary pig. Lydos had scouted with a Veretian patrol to confirm there was indeed a boar to be hunted, but it would be several days before they were in a place for kings to give chase. A four-day trip was going to be perfect.

“We’re going on a hunt,” Damen said cheerfully, already having awoken some time before. He was beyond excited to go on their trip. To see the sea again and have some quiet time together at a quaint inn that Pallas had investigated, the biggest room already paid for by one of Damen’s squires.

He kissed Laurent’s cheek and fastened his cloak. “Lydos tells me the boar is far off, we will have to ride all day to make camp. They say it is the biggest boar to wander so close to Arles—an omen, perhaps? I want to find it quickly so we don’t have to be out in the cold."

* * *

And /that/ was why Laurent was /so/ suspicious! This /hunt/ in winter! Damen took issue with leaving bed, and yet they were leaving the palace walls to go on a /hunt/. Outside! It was terribly fishy, and Laurent knew when he was being struck as a fool. He was up, he was getting dressed, but he didn’t buy it.

“The hunting party is small,” he pointed out, choosing his Veretian riding clothes today. The chiton did not seem at all fitting for this adventure. “And we will be fine for /days/ after this boar in the cold.”

Laurent definitely saw something was wrong here, but he supposed they were going /somewhere/. He would just have to shut up and see where that was. Wherever it may be, Laurent knew they would and could not be gone for too long, so he might as well enjoy it. The council was busy with their competition, and there was nothing in Vere that could be undone in a single day. Surely.

“You will not be so keen on the hunt of this magnificent boar when /I/ am the one to slay it,” Laurent tried further at Damen’s resolve, lacing up his winter boots.

* * *

“You will have to be faster than a man who wants out of the cold,” Damen challenged, still smiling. He could not wait to see the look on Laurent’s face when he found that they would be traveling alone, able to go on one of their trips—this time with Laurent as a beautiful pet (Damen had gotten ahold of a few nice earrings for Laurent to try) and Damen his kind and smitten lord.

Unable to contain his excitement, he scooped Laurent up into his arms, hugging him tight around the waist and tipping his head back to look at him.

“I am just happy to be away from the palace,” Damen said, grinning. “Even if it means camping in the cold of a tent, so long as I have you. And so long as I do not have your court.”

It wasn’t long after that that they were mounted, Nikri more than ready to go on a journey. Everyone in the hunting party seemed in good spirits, and with thw competition in full swing, Damen was confident they would return to an undisturbed Vere. He was more than ready to take Laurent to his surprise.

They headed off without fanfare, almost disguised in plain sight by the small size of their party and the earliness of the morning. Damen talked of hunts from his younger years, eager and bright despite his breath fogging in the cold. He couldn’t wait to be at the sea.

* * *

Laurent knew Vere was a sore spot for Damen, but so sore as to have him all but bounding around the room at the thought of escape? Laurent frowned, even as he was pulled up into Damen’s arms. Even those dimples couldnt coerce him into a grin. Something was still off, and he could still very much feel it, but again, Laurent let it slide. It would all show itself when the time came. He would let Damen play his game - and hope that he was really playing a game and not just….excited to leave.

The party was suspiciously small - not that Laurent minded it, but it was something worth noting. He could name every man in the party without becoming distracted, and that was with the inclusion of Lucien, riding atop a…subpar mare. Laurent supposed Jord had purchased the horse for his new pet, but Laurent could have bought him a better one. The boy clearly knew how to ride though, which Laurent found impressive before remembering he /was/ a stable boy at one time in his life.

Ven stayed in stride with Nikri without much coaxing, which made the ride much easier for Laurent. He had the time to adjust his cloak without needing to redirect Ven’s head or path, and though Laurent had thoughts about /his/ horse falling in with another, he let that go as well.

The wind was brisk, but filtered through the trees, it was not so strong. He wondered how the Akielons were holding up, but a pass around made it quite evident. There weren’t many to look at it. Well, he supposed Pallas would be warm tonight, if his glances to Lazar showed anything. Laurent smirked and turned back to the front, listening to Damen as he recounted his youth. Many of his stories took place at the age Laurent was now, and Laurent…could not fathom being so…/young/.

* * *

Damen was not as cold as he expected to be. Excitement ran thick in his blood, and he couldn’t even be bothered when Laurent seemed sad about it. Laurent simply didn’t know what was coming, the game he had painstakingly planned with Lady Vannes. The fact that he hadn’t already figured it out meant the surprise was still intact.

Convincing Pallas to leave them alone had not worked, but at least he had agreed to stay on the other end of the inn with Lazar. Jord and Lucien would be on the ground floor, and they would all be arriving separately, claiming to be in town on the way to visit Arles to see both kings at once. But they would arrive after Damen and Laurent.

They stopped to eat a small meal, but Damen could hardly sit. He kept pacing, still eager and excited.

He wouldn’t even look at Laurent, too afraid he would blurt out the truth.

Once they were riding again and Damen caught the faint scent of saltwater (though he could tell it had been carried far, the air was to cold), he started in his saddle.

“There!” he cried, startling birds that had been lazily chattering above.

He dug his heels into Nikri’s sides and off they went, charging forward on the path in pursuit of a boar that did not exist. Laurent would have to give chase if he wanted any hope of slaying the east, but his head start would buy him enough time to hopefully make it to the small villages perimeter to reveal his surprise.

Nikri leapt over a fallen tree and Damen pressed him faster. Nikri was a bit confused with nothing to chase, but he quickly realized this was a race and not a hunt, and lowered his head to gather himself for more power.

Damen was laughing all the while, ready for the game to begin.

* * *

Laurent trusted nothing at that point. Even as they sat and ate, he was watching Damen, silently letting him know that Laurent /knew/ something was going on - something sneaky. And he was quite sure that /he/ was the culprit of all the sneaking about! Like this was aimed at him! No one else had any tells, but Damen was transparent. Something was happening, and Laurent would get to the bottom of it.

Ven was being particularly finicky when they got back on the road, and Laurent had to give a lot of attention to her and not the path they were on. He vaguely smelled the scent of the salty shore, but he couldnt say he was paying any attention to it. Not when his horse kept dropping her head. The weather then - it was all she truly responded to. A storm on the way - not a winter one with snow, but definitely some rain. /Someone/ did not plan their hunt well—

Damen took off with a shout and swift movement, off down the path before them. Laurent was in quick pursuit, digging his heels into Ven out of instinct alone, and luckily, she followed suit, most likely because Nikri was gone, and she just could not stand that.

Laurent held tight to her reins, realizing a moment later, as he chased Damen down the path, that neither of them had proper weapons. Laurent had been outfitted with his sword, but neither of them had spears…arrows..anything like that. He spurred his horse faster after Damen, and where he did take the lead, he had done it with the intention of cutting Damen off, to ask hims just /what/ was going on here.

Luckily, for the both of them, Laurent broke the trees not a second later, nearly sending Ven toppling over a fallen wall on the outskirts of the small village. He had to stand in his stirrups to keep from going over Ven’s head and, only when they were stopped, did he wheel her around to face Damen, very much confused.

“There was no boar,” Laurent said flatly, pulling Ven up alongside Nikri to look his betrothed in the eye. “There was never a boar."

* * *

Laurent was catching him, but Damen didn’t press Nikri any faster. He could smell the sea, and it reminded him of Ios, even if it was still cold and going to rain ice on them at any moment. He felt like the rising storm, ready to burst with his excitement. He loved the idea of the downpour keeping them indoors, of listening to music and singing by a hearth at the in Pallas had chosen and Lady Vannes had approved.

Damen grinned wide wen Laurent turned to face him, not at all bothered by his betrothed’s annoyance.

“There is a boar,” Damen countered. “But we aren’t chasing it until Lydos finds it again.”

He looked out at the seaside town, quaint but bustling. They would not be recognized, but their wealth would be respected in a merchant town.

“Surprise,” Damen finally said. “We have four days here, where we are to play a game. I am a nobleman of Akielos, Lamen, stopping here on my journey to visit the kings. You—should you wish it—are to be my pet. My saddlebags have clothes for us both, and we will stay in the finest inn in the village. Pallas, Lazar, Jord, and Lucien will be staying nearby, but are not to disturb us unless necessary.”

His heart sang in his chest, momentarily worried Laurent would not like his present.

“I hope you did not think I planned to spend days hunting in the cold. I wanted something to…help you relax. Arles stresses you. You need a few days away, I think."

* * *

Laurent didn’t have a response at first - of any sort! His cold eyes scanned the little town, his face a mask of indifference as he truly processed all of this. A gift. A gift of an escape - in more ways than one. Damen had, effectively, kidnapped him from the palace, from his kingly duties, to play a child’s game of pretend. He had stolen Laurent away to pose as a lord and his pet, in this small, private town where they would never be recognised.

And Laurent smiled wide, with abandon, bringing his horse around to face the town, to face Damen again. He looked absolutely delighted at the idea of such a game, at the idea of a.../break/. He had seen Damen in battle, had seen Damen as a diplomat. He had no doubts Damen had left Arles in good hands with the necessary parameters on how to behave in the kings’ absences. This was a much deserved, much appreciated trip.

And Damen would know it.

“Lamen,” Laurent repeated fondly, noticing that they were /alone/ right now and able to have this conversation. As in, without any of their party. Oh, that was thrilling.

“And who am I to be?” Laurent asked, as calmly as he could, thinking over their little act. “I will be...Soren,” Laurent decided, “As I do think ‘Daurent’ would sound absolutely ridiculous.”

Soren. Pet of Lamen. This was absolute madness, yet it was something new - a fun game for Laurent to distract himself with. He welcomed it.

“And what shall I wear?” He asked, regarding his own outfit for a moment. “I do not know that my crown gives off the image of a pet.”

* * *

All of it had been worth that smile. Damen’s heart soared, and he could not wait to take Laurent into his arms again, to kiss him the way he so wanted to. They were alone, they were safe, and Arles would behave itself while they were away. And he had successfully surprised Laurent. That was the greatest present of them all.

“Soren,” Damen repeated. A name pretty enough for someone of Laurent’s beauty. He was so happy Laurent had agreed to the game, and he was happy to take up the Lamen name again. making up a new one would have probably left Damen to ruin the game by not remembering it.

“This way,” Damen said, smiling. “He turned Nikri, heading for the thicker woods to give them shelter from the snow and cold. He slipped from his horse and deftly tied Nikri to a tree to rummage in his saddle bags.

He pulled another silk chiton, simpler than the last, but not by much. Gold embroidery, flowing milk-white silk, soft to touch—almost as soft as Laurent’s skin. The earring was produced next, a large piece of jewelry of bright gold and beautiful pearls of white and even rarer black. He had so been looking forward to being by the sea.

“There is a fine cloak as well, thick fur.” He offered his gifts with a smile. “Lydos will take our crowns and whatnot, but he will come tonight after I have handed them off to Jord. Your crown will be safe with me, as it has always been."

* * *

Laurent took the chiton, his smile softened, but only because he was so focused on the game now - the rules, the play, the benefits, his moves. Laurent was the king of not only Vere, but also of overthinking things. At least it was something fun.

“Im an Akielon,” Laurent mused aloud, switching automatically over to the Akielon language where he sounded…much less educated, but perhaps that was fitting of an Akielon pet. He had a whole character here, for at least when they were in public. No one would know who he was - not in a town like this. Laurent could not say he had ever or would ever have thought to visit a town like this, as it was quite quaint and seemed unable to hold the large party the king usually travelled with, but…it would be a nice little…secret town. For them.

“How long has this been up your sleeve?” Laurent asked as he, there in the open, began to strip down. It was cold, but he would not be undressed for long, and the cover of the trees definitely helped.

He handed his crown over to Damen first, trusting him to keep it safe, and then Laurent was onto his lacings, his Veretian clothes falling away piece by terribly slow piece. He needed Damen’s help to tie up the chiton, but not before he gave him a sweet kiss, silently thanking him for this little excursion. He came away with the earring hooked in his ear, and then he was, admittedly, diving for the cloak as the wind picked up.

Akielons did /not/ wear /clothes/!

* * *

“An Akielon,” Damen repeated to himself, to remember. He already felt more relaxed in his own language, though Veretian was no longer an issue for him. He switched between the two without a second thought, even thankful to his father for teaching him the language of their then-enemies. It was more honorable to insult a man in his own language, he supposed. He hadn’t tried for honor when first insulting Laurent, but at least Laurent had been able to understand him.

He stood to cover Laurent from the brunt of the wind, smiling. “You told me how you enjoyed playing a pet, and I could see the stress the palace has brought you over the past months. Hot springs would not be enough to drive it from you, so I wanted something better. My speaking to Lady Vannes was not about her cheap remedy, but instead about conspiring to surprise you. I could not have done it without her.” He wasn’t afraid to admit it, she had held up her end of the bargain so far.

The earring looked beautiful when it was threaded through Laurent’s ear, and Damen responded to the kiss willingly, happily. He discarded his own royal clothes next, though his chiton and boots had purposely been chosen to be noble but not necessarily royal unless paired with his crest. His crown was put with Laurent’s, his golden branches twining with stars.

“Ride on Nikri with me,” Damen instructed, already beginning to shift his saddlebags to Ven. “Our excuse fo the inn will be that I feared your would freeze.” A valid fear in this weather wearing a chiton not made for winter.

He helped Laurent onto Nikri, then climbed up himself, sitting Laurent in front of him.

“You will have to loosen your leg like a beginner,” Damen chuckled, putting his arms securely around Laurent the same way he did when he took Korus on rides to the exterior training grounds. This way Laurent would stay doubly warm against his chest and in his cloak.

“Are you ready, Soren?” Damen asked with a kiss to Laurent’s neck. “I am."

* * *

Vannes! Laurent /knew/ this conspiring could not be Damen alone. He was too honest a man, too transparent, too kind. This was in line with Vannes’ interests, especially because Laurent was sure at this point that she knew this was a pleasure break. She was probably so unbearably pleased that it hurt. Laurent was happy for her, and grateful for her, too. This was a brilliant idea Damen had - one he never would have been able to pull off on his own.

With a little huff - the horse was /quite/ tall - Laurent climbed atop Nikri, silently apologizing to Ven, though she was probably grateful for not having his weight on her bag. The saddle bags wouldn’t drive their heels into her side and nearly run her into a wall, he supposed.

He’d not expected to be corrected on his riding, but he realised a moment later that he had trained on horseback all of his life, and that might not be fitting for the life of a pet. Oh, Laurent was suddenly not so sure this would be an /easy/ role to play, especially if they left their room to eat, as normal people did in taverns.

Ah, but that was part of the game.

“I suppose ‘ready’ is one way to describe it,” Laurent murmured, and now his teeth were chattering, and he wasnt so sure if that was part of the act or if it was because Akielons /didn’t wear fucking clothes/. Laurent wouldn’t /allow/ himself to freeze, but he could definitely feel the chill on his bare legs. Damen really did keep his chitons short...

* * *

Damen moved them forward, and shortly after he was removing his cloak to wrap it over Laurent’s lap to keep his legs warm. It was cold, but with Laurent against him and in need, Damen didn’t feel the chill. He would always protect Laurent before himself, he would swear to it on their wedding day.

Townsfolk began to notice as they arrived, peeking from windows and over ramshackle fences as someone of noble birth entered their small town. The buildings were weathered by the see, but well kept, and the people wore plain but clean clothing. Talk had already started by the time they arrived at the inn, where Damen easily lifted Laurent from the saddle and helped him to the cobblestone street.

“My lord,” a stableboy said, rushing close. “May I take your horses?” Damen could see the want for coin in his eye.

“In a moment,” Damen replied, moving to Ven. He removed the saddle bags with just a few tugs of straps, keeping the light smile on his face.

“The servants can fetch those, m’lord,” the stableboy offered. “You need not carry them.”

“I don’t mind,” Damen assured him, hefting the packed bags easily over his shoulder. “You will find I have already reserved stalls and a room, under the name of Lamen of Akielos.”

The boy’s eyes flashed. “Yes, my lord! I did hear of your name. A great warrior with a pet of—“

The boy flushed upon realizing that Laurent was the pet.

“Beauty?” Damen finished with a smirk, handing over the reins. He looked to Laurent. “Soren, we must get you inside before you freeze and I have no pet worth whispering about.”

He tossed a gold coin to the boy who stared wide-eyed at it while Damen pressed a kiss to Laurent’s temple.

“We will warm you by the fire,” he said softly. “And have some hot food."

* * *

Laurent, not having control of the horse, had all the freedoms to look about, to spy those that spied them from the safety of their homes. He would have liked to come here as king, to see these people as he truly was, but that was not a decision for today. His presence here had already been marked as pet to Lamen of Akielos. He moved in closer to Damen, looked over the inn as they approached it.

It was solid, with strong walls of wood and the smoke of a fire funnelling out from two chimneys. It was quaint, and Laurent quite liked it.

He grasped Damen’s shoulders as he was lowered from Nikri’s back, and if Laurent had been hesitant about his role, the adrenaline of success kicked right in when the stable boy approached. Laurent kept himself pressed to Damen’s side as he had seen so many pets do with their masters before. He usually rolled his eyes at the very action, but for now, it was good for warmth.

“Did he call me beautiful?” Laurent asked in Akielon, and by the boy’s reaction, he did not understand the language at all. Laurent would not have expected it of him. This town didn’t seem as progressive as others when it came to the union, but they clearly were not about to turn down a noblemen due to his birth. Laurent doubted a man had even been pulled from his village to fight in the war.

Laurent almost stepped in when it came to their bags, for though he was actually a king under this guise - a /king/ - he was still quite independent to an extent. And he couldn’t stand the idea of this boy taking off with his crown for /many/ reasons, but Damen saw to it, and Laurent did /not/ offer to help. A pet wouldn’t. And neither would be.

“If your people wore clothes, I would not be so in need of a fire,” Laurent responded easily, eyeing the boy eyeing his betrothed as they passed.

Everyone had their types.

* * *

“And I would have less of your pretty thighs to look at,” Damen chuckled in Akielon. He could still feel the warmth where Laurent had pressed against him, hanging on him like a pet. The stableboy kept watching him, and Damen quirked the corner of his mouth. The boy flushed deep red, and Damen grinned wider. It was nice to know people still found him attractive—most were afraid to show it around Laurent.

They entered the inn to the sound of soft music being played by a brimming fireplace. They people inside looked to be mostly merchants, and there were two men who looked to be aristocrats, but far too poor to have ever seen someone like their king. A bit of gold in the ears of a pet with mousy hair, who looked at Laurent with raging jealousy immediately.

Damen strode to the stunned innkeeper, announcing himself. The portly man fumbled for keys and took them up to a room. It was small, but cozy. The bed looked warm, and the fireplace was stoked and warming the room for them.

“This will do nicely,” Damen said after a moment, honestly forgetting that Laurent wasn't going to be speaking for him this time around.

“Anything you need, you need only ask,” the innkeeper said with a bow of his head. “We are at the service of you and your party.”

Damen thanked the man, then closed the door to their room, letting out a sigh. He kept forgetting who he was supposed to be, even though he had planned this!

“I keep thinking I am the pet,” Damen chuckled, shaking his head. “Your merchant’s apprentice.” He set the saddle bags on the simple chair by the fireplace and turned, his smile wide.

“So,” he said. “Shall we eat dinner or do you need a moment to gather yourself?"

* * *

Of course Laurent locked eyes with the other pet the moment he strode to through the door. He could /feel/ the jealous rage directed towards him, and Laurent didn’t miss why. Before Damen had walked him through the door, Laurent could bet all eyes had been on the boy - prospective suitors with rich things to offer in return for a contract. Laurent was hurting his business.

But it wasn’t as if he’d leave with a contract with any man in here.

Laurent smiled at the boy, but there was a hint of wickedness in it. It was an exciting part of the game he’d never really thought of: competition. Laurent was a younger son and brother. He /knew/ competition, and he did so love it. It would be a fun little addition to the night.

He followed the inn keeper and Damen up the stairs and into the room they would call theirs for a few nights. It wasn’t exactly spacious, but it was Laurent didn’t plan on actually hunting a boar in here. He didn’t need the room that Damen did, and he had to wonder if his beloved would even fit into the bed.

The very idea made him grin.

Laurent, as Soren he supposed, sauntered over to the bed and took a seat on it, looking about the interior as Damen addresses the inn keeper. Laurent lounged just as a spoiled pet would, waiting for his moment to have Damen to himself. It did not take long.

“You did so well last time,” Laurent responded in jest, pushing to stand already at the mention of food. He was quite hungry. “Don't let it slip, Lamen,” Laurent murmured as he took Damen’s hand in his, pulled him to the door. “Can you imagine the scandal if we were discovered like this.”

Laurent didn’t sound so perturbed by it.

“I am gathered,” Laurent pushed Damen on, very visibly enjoying himself. He wanted back down there and it was obvious. “Come! I’m starved.”


	20. Part II: Soren and Lamen (19.4.20)

Damen was hungry himself, so he was more than willing to head straight to dinner. They would have good food tonight, even if it wasn’t what they were used to. Damen hoped for fish, just to taste something like home. He’d smelled plenty on the way through town. Maybe prawns, but he wasn’t sure how or when they were harvested. Maybe Vere had none.

He hadn’t seen Laurent so eager in a long time. But instead of letting Laurent go, he stood firm in the doorway and tugged him in close. “I only have a knife,” he warned. “Don’t tease them /all/ or Pallas will tell Nikandros, and we will never see sunlight again without a full guard.”

Then he let Laurent lead him down to the main floor, where conversation was abuzz with the new arrivals. All eyes were on him or Laurent, and the innkeeper showed them to his grandest table, made of thick hardwood. The aristocrats sat there already, watching with envy.

“Where did you find a boy like that?” one of the aristocrats asked in a Veretian accent Damen had never heard.

“Hello,” Damen replied as he took his seat. “Soren? Paid dearly for him.” He looked at Laurent, frowning. “I loathe the day when his contract ends. It is soon. Perhaps I should keep him here—he does not understand Veretian well.” Damen smiled, daring Laurent to show understanding.

“I do not mean to be crass, but what did you pay?” the man asked, the pet in his lap forgotten. “Who would part with him?”

“Even the most stubborn men can be swayed,” Damen replied around a bite of roasted vegetables. He offered a floret of cooked broccoli to Laurent with his fingers. “I am very persuasive."

* * *

The very idea of flirting with /all/ of the men in the inn had not even crossed Laurent’s mind. Not until he thought about Damen’s adversity to him flirting with /anyone/, and Laurent lit right up. But he wasnt an idiot. He wouldn’t put himself in danger when all Damen had was a /knife/. So Laurent pushed past Damen and back inside the room, pushed open his own saddlebag and pushed around until he found what he was looking for.

He pulled out the long hairpin, nothing more than a golden spike, and worked it into his hair in an easy, loose style. It showed his long neck off quite nicely, but more than that, Laurent was now armed. Look at that. Now they had a knife /and/ a hairpin. They were practically an army.

With that, Laurent pushed right past Damen again, this time kissing his lips as he passed, and he headed off down the stairs towards the music and the /life/.

Any excitement that Laurent had showed upstairs morphed into a refined sense of the blasé when they descended the stairs and into the conversation. The music was lovely, though Laurent could only hear the Veretian comments being made about both himself and Damen, especially when they took their seat.

Damen put him right in a place where these men believed Laurent to not speak Veretian, so Laurent played along, airily looking around - avoiding the gaze of the other pet who was staring daggers into him - as he listened to the men comment on his cost. It took so much from him not to laugh outright.

Damen holding out food for him definitely helped.

Now, Laurent was hungry, and this little hand feeding act would not work with him in the long term. Especially if Damen was going to pick up the smallest vegetable pieces he could find. It was a lot for Laurent to fall into the more delicate style of things, but for the moment, he could play his part.

So Laurent turned, all demure and soft, knowing damn well all eyes were on him, and took the food from Damen’s fingers, his lips wrapping around the tips before he pulled away - and /bowed his head in gratitude/.

“Does anyone here speak Akielon?” Laurent asked, looking at Damen, but asking the questions loud enough for the others to hear. No one responded, most of them looking to Damen expectantly to hear a translation.

Good.

“The man next to you is eyeing your purse,” Laurent smiled, nuzzling up against Damen as if whispering sweet nothings in their native language. “Keep your mind on it, or even /you/ won’t be able to afford me.”

“He seems very taken with you,” one of the men at the table told Damen, “Have you had him long?"

* * *

Damen had forgotten the thrill of Laurent as a pet, and his nerves about forgetting his name had settled he moment Laurent started falling into his role. They had both practiced new identities more than most, but it had been some time. They were practiced now, no longer having to wonder if their play words were going to seem offensive. Laurent made a beautiful pet, and Damen his master. Everyone was jealous of them, more openly than when they wore crowns. It was almost as if they were even more wealthy here, normal citizens with wealth, not royal blood.

Laurent’s lips around the tips of his fingers sent a shiver through him, drawing him from his thoughts. When Laurent spoke, Damen smiled. He had half-expected at least one person to reply that they understood, but no one did. It made him a little sad to hear, especially from a coastal town.

Damen hadn’t realized anyone was looking at his purse, and he smiled. “He asks what the main course will be,” Damen pretended to translate. He could read hunger in Laurent’s eyes, though rare. He always found himself wishing it was a different kind of hunger that was rarer still.

“I will,” Damen replied in Akielon, completely bewitched by the way Laurent was nuzzling him. He put a hand on his purse, drawing it up to his lap. “I afforded you as a slave, I think I could do it again with nothing,” he teased further.

Damen grinned, thankful at least someone thought Laurent was taken with him.

“Long enough to be fond of him,” Damen said, caressing Laurent’s cheek. He did love him, dearly. “He is provided for, and kept well, even when he is being stubborn.”

“With a face like that, I would hope so,” the man chuckled.

“It is more than that," Damen countered, offering Laurent a plate of cooked duck and boiled vegetables. “Soren is my companion. He is far more than a pet to me.”

Damen nudged Laurent’s leg with his own. “I would not part with him if the kings themselves asked it of me.”

“King," the man corrected. “Here there is only King Laurent. King Damianos is still a visitor.”

“Not for long,” Damen returned, annoyed. “Soon you will have to accept that whether you would like to or not."

* * *

Damen was enjoying himself as much as Laurent was. He was always a confident man, but Laurent had seen that waning in his days in Arles. To see Damen once more commanding a room with confidence and pride was moving, and Laurent found himself /too/ close to his beloved, just wanting to bask in Damen’s glory. He rested his hand on Damen’s thigh, looked about the revolving conversation up until their food arrived.

He did well in waiting until he was given his food, thanking Damen with a smile, a demure look through his lashes before he tucked in, delicately using his silverware to eat. Their table was the only one given such a luxury, and even then, the silverware was scratched and dinged.

Laurent would send them a new set.

A little commotion kicked up when Laurent began to /blush/ at Damen’s praise of him, and truly, it was not all for show. He liked Damen owning him so openly, liked him so confidently speaking about Laurent as he was now, loving him in front of everyone, on purpose.

Even when Vere kept trying to drag him down.

Well, Laurent couldn’t have that.

“He says, ‘one king’?” Laurent asked Damen, but he’d switched to Veretian - broken and inelegant, played up for the act. “‘One king?’” He repeated again as if truly trying to understand the Veretian. If not a royal, Laurent could have easily found his way in one of those travelling theatre companies.

The table instantly reacted, all interested in hearing the pet try to speak Veretian and fail. For as beautiful and intelligent as ‘Soren’ looked, these men did not find him bright. Laurent could see it in the way they seemed to pity him when he spoke, unable to truly communicate in either language.

Body language, then.

“You only say that because you are Akielon,” one of the aristocrats dismissed, turning to his plate, unable to look Damen in the face as he disrespected him.

“I doubt they’ll even be wed,” the man continued, a little more confidently. “I believe what they have is quite perverse. I think King Laurent means to wed the Akielon king and then kill him. It is the only outcome to all of this that makes sense.”

Laurent raised his brows, turning to Damen with a smirk. He knew this man was wrong, and Damen did as well. They might as well listen to him and find the humour in it.

Or derail it. Just in case Damen wasn’t in the same spirit Laurent was in.

So Laurent turned back to Damen, as if bored with the conversation he ‘couldn’t understand,’ and after so sweetly biting his lip, he opened his mouth, stuck his tongue out the slightest bit in a silent request for food. Yes, he had a whole plate, but a proper needy pet would demand to be fed, especially when their owner was as handsome as Damen.

It almost knocked them off track.

“He is very fair for an Akielon,” the same man pointed out, his head tilted as he regarded Laurent. “You may want to keep him hidden if you are near Arles. Rumour has it the Akielon King will snatch up any blond he can find and ravage them.”

“Do you think the king would have me?” Laurent asked teasingly, but with a surprise amount of genuine intrigue. “Or should I settle my sights on one of these lesser men?” His hand travelled up Damen’s clothed thigh, his attention only on Damen despite his earlier desires to flirt around...for Damen’s attention.

* * *

Damen knew he was biased. He liked to think Akielos accepted Laurent for what he had done to save the kingdom. But the truth was that most people didn’t know what Laurent had done, they thought he was just Damen’s lover or maybe something worse. Tensions hadn’t ebbed much since Kastor’s fall, not in remote places of Akielos. Places similar to this place in Vere.

“One king,” Damen confirmed, trying to read Laurent’s gaze. He was awfully good at this. He couldn’t stop himself from shooting the man a look when he called his and Laurent’s relationship perverse.

“What is perverse about it?” Damen said, shrugging. “I thought there would only be outrage if he took a woman—is this not Vere? King Laurent seems to abide fiercely by the customs here. If anything it is Damianos being perverse. In Akielos marrying a man is much less common.”

He snorted at the comment about ravaging blonds, but turned it to a laugh. “Yes, I have heard the same. Even so, we are going to visit the palace. Damianos might be insatiable, but he is honorable. I saw him and King Laurent both, in Marlas.”

Laurent’s hand moved ever up his thigh, Damen looked over to him, eyebrow cocked. He had thought Laurent would be wanting to flirt with these men, but he seemed very much interested in him alone.

“Yes,” Damen answered in Akielon. “I would lose you if he were here. Probably be put to death for keeping you from him.”

He put his hand over Laurent’s and offered him a bite of duck to eat, his grin wide and unabashedly smitten.

* * *

“What a world,” Laurent grinned, taking the duck between his lips and, this time, darting his tongue out to lick at Damen’s fingertips.

“You seem support the union greatly,” another man at the table spoke up, his delivery not unlike Lady Vannes’ - of questionable intention. “As I understand, they would do away with your pet. They’ve already begun the process in Akielos. I visited just a bit ago and—“

Laurent stood - just stood out of nowhere - and crossed over to the hearth in the middle of the room. He didn’t seem angry or frustrated, just airily distracted as he climbed over the bench and moved away.

He didn’t mind hearing what people had to say about him, but he’d not come here to argue about it, and in moving, in garnering attention as he was so apt to do, he shut every person at that table up. At least about the real Damen and Laurent.

“He just runs off like that?” The men with the pet asked, and oh, the pet seemed /pleased/ to see Soren behave in a way most men would not agree with.

But Laurent was nearly standing by the fire, playing at cold, listening to the man playing his music just a table or so over. He looked lovely, the white of his chiton and his skin nearly the same by the fire, the orange and yellow playing up his long legs - and Laurent /knew/ it.

The man with the pet did so daringly ask then, “When does his contract end?”

* * *

Damen was just forming an answer when Laurent stood. He didn’t want to have a political discussion over dinner, but it was always interesting to hear true opinions of them that weren’t biased. Pets were a difficult concern, one that Damen warred with.

“Pets are not commonplace in Akielos,” Damen said dismissively, watching Laurent. “Damianos has ended slavery, for reasons I can’t claim to understand, but I suppose it makes sense after being enslaved himself. Pets are a different matter.”

Laurent looked so beautiful in firelight, he seemed to glow.

“Soon,” Damen said sadly. “I can only hope I have treated him well enough to stay. He does as he likes, and I allow it. The price of beauty, I say.”

And no one could deny Laurent had that in droves.

Damen smiled. “Men have tried to take him from me, and I welcome the challenge. I have never lost. Perhaps the only person I would lose to is the King Damianos himself.”

He could still feel the slight dampness on his fingers where Laurent had licked.

“Is he as good in bed as he is to look at?” The man pressed, challenged now.

“You would not be able to imagine it,” Damen chuckled. “He is something else entirely. A true prize.”

* * *

Laurent stayed parted from Damen for a short while, only coming over once with his hands held open in front of him, expectantly. The conversation about their political stances had died down, but he did feel a lot of hate emanating from the pet on the other side of the table.

“Silver,” Laurent requested in his Akielon, shoving his hand towards Damen. “I wish to pay the bard.”

“Ah, he is a lot like my Oskar here, it seems,” the man with the pet laughed, having not needed to understand Laurent to get what he was asking for. “Oskar is always demanding my coin, aren’t you, boy?”

Oskar, the pet, smiled at his master, but then his eyes were on Laurent again, hateful.

Laurent was still staring at Damen.

“Perhaps our boys could get closer,” the man offered then. “Earn the coin they keep asking for.”

Ah, yes, there was the terribly Veretian sentiment. Laurent had nearly forgotten his own people.

“I would pay to see it,” another man agreed with a bark of a laugh, a deep gulp from his tankard. “Though I suppose Lord...Lamen, was it? I don’t suppose you are too keen on the idea of sharing, especially if he will be leaving you so soon. The Akielon King /will/ take him, King Laurent be damned.”

“I hear the Akielon king is very handsome,” the pet, Oskar, spoke up with a smirk, disagreeing with his master sweetly. “That is the word about the country. Lord Lamen’s pet is probably not even beautiful enough for Damianos.”

* * *

Damen has not intended to talk politics with these men, but he couldn’t help himself. He had to defend Laurent, their union. Of course, he also had to play the loyal Akielon, but no one seemed to question his devotion there. Talk revolved around pets and slavery mostly, but he managed to steer it to hunting not long after.

That is, until Laurent approached, looking absolutely beautiful and begging for coin.

And of course Veretians just had to get their ideas in. Damen bristled at the suggestion he would ever let Laurent be put out in pleasure for another pet.

“Soren is mine alone,” Damen said firmly. “I purchased his contract at a monumental price. I do not share him, even with other pets. It is a practice to ensure purity for his next buyer—it is prized in Akielos for pets to have as few partners as possible. Not to be mistaken with inexperience, I can assure you.” Not a complete lie, though Akielons didn’t have pets very often yet.

He pulled silver for Laurent, beckoning him closer.

“A kiss for my trouble?” Damen proposed in Akielon with a grin. “You do look so beautiful in firelight.”

* * *

Playing that he did not understand this back and forth was the most difficult for Laurent. His expression remained cool and neutral, and he had taught it to for years, but how he longed to speak out in proper Veretian, to use his tongue to cut them all down quickly and easily. But he kept his eyes on Damen, hand still outstretched, letting him handle it. He was doing quite well, even if he was creating a greater pull for his ‘pet.’ Veretians did not like to be told no, as Damen had learned firsthand.

When the coin was in his hand, Laurent smiled and leaned forward without question, one hand coming up to hold Damen’s cheek as they kissed sweetly - and Laurent’s bending over gave everyone around a more intimate look right up his legs to the curve of his rear, but he was mindful not to bend over any further.

“Tell me when you need me to save you,” Laurent murmured in Akielon, smirking as he backed off and headed back over to the bard, depositing the silver coin into his hat. The man, having looked like he never received more than copper in his life, instantly asked Laurent what kind of music he would like to hear in return for the coin. When Laurent requested something Akielon and the bard complied, Laurent reached into his own little pocket and dispensed another silver coin, then he was off again, this time deeper into the inn.

Fully across the room, there was a table, tucked deep in the corner with a rowdier type of men. They had their cloaks on, still up over their heads like they had something to hide. Laurent had spotted them from the fireplace and instantly found himself intrigued. Even in the dark, the firelight has caught something with a shine that Laurent wanted. So he confidently went right over and took a seat by the biggest man he could find without trepidation.

And he started his newest game.

Oskar had moved into his masters lap by that point, faced away, but his eyes were on Damen,  
quietly processing now he felt about the Akielon lord. Most pets would chase a man like Damen - handsome, large, rich - but the /Akielon/ stood out so glaringly to Oskar, that he wasn’t sure he could see past it.

Oskar was not as beautiful as Laurent, and he was definitely older, with brown hair braided beautifully down his back. He wore very few jewels, probably for his safety in travel...or everywhere. Oskar was slight, taller than Laurent but with no musculature to suggest he’d ever fought or trained in his life. Born into the pet life then, it seemed.

“Lord Lamen,” Oskar spoke up, surprisingly clear for someone who very clearly had their master’s cock shoved into their ass not a moment after Laurent had gone showing off his thighs. They weren’t actively fucking, but he was definitely seated very intimately there in the open. A power move, while Soren was running around with other men. “Surely you do not believe that boy to be pure.”

“Oskar,” his master chastised softly, not stopping him by any means.

“He has already taken the lap of another,” Oskar pointed out, furthering his point. It made Soren look bad, which was all Oskar was after. His master was too involved in Soren already, and Oskar couldn’t risk that.

* * *

Damen didn’t need to be saved from the people at the table, but he was bored. Talk of pets was unimportant to him unless they’re were fighting over the differentiation between rights of pets and rights of slaves. Damen didn’t think anyone should be forced into sex, but he was guilty of being the forcer when it came to slaves. He hadn’t thought much about it in his youth, and many of his bed partners had been champions in the ring who had welcomed it. But it was never sure if they were just obliging him. Perhaps it was all forced.

He fought not to wrinkle his nose as Oskar’s master slid into him unabashedly at the table. Damen loved seeing a Laurent as a pet, but he would never treat him like one in that way. Though it would have been nice to have him here, not sitting across the tavern with some unfriendly-looking strangers.

“I never said pure,” Damen corrected. “I said as few partners as possible. I know everyone Soren has ever lain with, and he comes from such high breeding that it would not have been worth it to give him to others, to lie to me.”

He watched Laurent moving ever closer to the men, and also recognized the song the bard now played.

“Soren knows the rules, and the consequences. He may play at who he likes, but he is always in my bed at the end of the night.” Damen smirked. “I find that far more fulfilling than a pet I must beg attention from. Just watch.”

He looked up, not longer wanting to have the illusion that Soren was straying.

“Soren!” Damen called in Akielon. “Our friends think you abandon me. I think it is time for saving.”

* * *

Laurent was definitely straying in the sense that he was using his looks to get what he wanted, but he did not intend to act on anything he was saying to the man whose lap he sat upon. The man was clean despite the way he and his men looked, covered in dark swirls of ink. They were not Veretian, but a band of traders from Patras, headed to the coast in the morning. They had their finer valuables on them, and with a bit of flirting and a bit of silver, Laurent had taken what he needed from them without the threat of any harm to his person.

His head did shoot up when Damen called for him, and though he had honestly been enjoying his conversation with the Patran men, Damen needed him. So he thanked the man whose lap he had taken with a soft kiss to his cheek, and - with his goods wrapped in a leather fold - he headed back to Damen dutifully.

He handed over the small bundle for Damen to hold, his head bowed in apology for his absence, he supposed.

“He brings /you/ gifts?” Oskar’s master asked, calling Laurent’s attention over, Laurent’s face neutral despite the sight before him. “I’ve never known such a pet.”

Laurent turned back to Damen, and he smiled, unmoved by their guests in that moment. There was something new in Laurent’s eyes, something that suggested excitement, and he clearly had something up his sleeve—

Something that had made him a little more bold.

When he climbed atop Damen’s lap, he faced Damen and only Damen, and though the swell of his rear was definitely showing with the way the chiton rode up, it surprisingly didn’t seem to bother Laurent. It didn’t bother anyone around them, either.

“How long has that little show been going on?” Laurent asked in quieted Akielon, as if having an intimate conversation with Damen, his tone apologetic and doting despite the actual content of their conversation.

“What is it that you call this garment?” The man sitting next to Damen asked, reaching over and touching the ridden up hem of Laurent’s chiton, but he seemed to have the mind not to connect hand with Laurent’s skin. “I have heard the Akielon styling is spreading from the border, but surely these are bed clothes?”

Laurent’s eyes /lit up/ as he swallowed his laughter at the sentiment.

* * *

Damen had thought for a moment that Laurent wouldn’t come over, that he would make a show of disobeying. He had no idea what he would have done in that case, but thankfully Laurent came over quickly, though Damen caught the way Laurent kissed the man he’d been sitting on. Jealousy raged in him, though he knew it was silly. Laurent loved him only, had no interest in the hooded men. That was only proved by the gift Laurent offered him.

“Perhaps you do not treat your pets well enough,” Damen tutted. He smiled fondly when Laurent looked at him, taking him into his arms. He nearly flushed when Laurent pressed so close, knowing that the chiton must be exposing him. But Laurent seemed well aware and uncaring.

“Long enough,” Damen murmured in reply, brushing noses with Laurent. He smoothed his hands up Laurent’s thighs, and nearly grabbed for the man who dared to touch Laurent’s clothing.

“It is a chiton,” Damen said without hiding his annoyance. “Not bedclothes. The silk of this chiton alone could buy this inn.”

He tugged the chiton hem back down, covering his betrothed.

“Did you make new friends?” He asked in Akielon, stealing a kiss. “Perhaps they are less insufferable.”

* * *

“Traders from Patras,” Laurent murmured in Akielon, tossing a disapproving eye back at the man who dared touch his clothing. It was very much the royalty in him that elicited such a response, but he reined himself back in, back to Damen. “Not fine, upstanding men trading for royalty, it turns out. But I think I bought something you’ll quite like.”

Laurent smiled, his hands smoothing down Damen’s chest, his fingertips catching on laces the whole way down. It was a confident move from Laurent, one he usually would not display in public. Though he had never sat on Damen’s lap in public either. His fingers danced at the laces of Damen’s pants, but he did not move to untie. He just...played with them.

“The big one may fight you for me if we stay down here,” Laurent murmured, and it almost looked as if those around them might get a show. It did not please Oskar to have all eyes on the blond pet when he was right there, being taken by his master. He supposed he would need to be slightly louder, then.

“Perhaps we should go upstairs, my Lord,” Laurent said as he moved in a little closer to Damen to be heard over the noises Oskar had begun to make. “You have dealt with Veretian aristocracy quite enough for the evening.”

And Laurent climbed off of Damen’s lap, stood there waiting for Damen.

“Off so soon?” came a disappointed voice from the table. “Are you shy, Lord Lamen?”

* * *

Laurent was being very forward, and Damen soaked up each moment. He knew all eyes were on them, and for once he wanted them to be. Laurent was his, no matter the identity. He had won Laurent’s heart as a slave, and now would keep it as a king. They had nothing to hide even here.

Well, except their lovemaking.

He couldn’t help but look over at Oskar and his master, disturbed as he was fascinated. He did not understand why anyone would desire to share someone like that so publicly.

“As I said,” Damen said as he stood. “Soren is far too valuable to share.” He winked at the men, then took Laurent by the hip and walked next to him, kissing his temple as they walked.

“I love you,” he murmured in Akielon. “What have you brought me?”

* * *

“A shame,” the man responded, giving Laurent another once over. “It is much more of the Veretian culture to share.” He had never seen a pet so loyal at the end of their contract, though he supposed this was the man to be loyal to. Lord Lamen was clearly rich, could clearly care for a pet of such high maintenance. But there would be a day where Lamen found a wife, and that pet would be up for grabs, surely.

“The Akielon King will not be as passive, Lord Lamen,” the man called after them, having to raise his voice as Oskar‘s master joined in on his pet’s noises of pleasure.

Laurent walked close to Damen, checking behind them only once in a way that might have looked demure, but was more in the vein of making sure no one followed. They didn’t, and Laurent turned back to Damen, a smile forming on his face.

“I will miss you when the Akielon king takes me away,” Laurent joked quietly, still in Akielon, still in his character. He reached over for Damen’s gift, fished it out of his hand and toyed at the side of the leather wrapping. “But I do think I’ve bought something for you to remember me by.”

The wicked smile on Laurent’s face should have given it away, but all the same, he unwrapped the gift just enough to show Damen the tips of two sharp objects, glinting in the firelight of the hall’s brasiers.

Piercing needles.

* * *

Damen was happy to have Laurent to himself in the quiet of the hall. They still had quite a bit of night to burn, and the others in their party had not yet arrived, but Damen was content to retreat to their room, to explore his doting pet, to make the men jealous as they thought about what all they could be getting up to in their room.

He peered at the little leather tote, brow furrowing when Laurent produced who needle like things sticking from the pouch. He cocked a brow.

“A pin?” he asked, unsure. He didn’t understand what he was looking at, nor why Laurent was looking so devilish.

“You know I would never take a pet over you,” Damen suddenly blurted out, as if only just thinking about it. “No matter how good to look at. There will only be you.”

* * *

A /pin/. Oh, Damen. Blessed Damen.

Laurent rewrapped the bundle for now, held it in his hands as they headed to their rooms. He would have liked to stay downstairs longer, would have liked to mingle unrecognised in the crowd, but they still had time here. Laurent could be Soren for a few days more. Perhaps tomorrow, they could even explore the little town, the port by the sea.

Perhaps tomorrow, when Laurent was not so excited about his little gift to Damen, they could hear more about their people’s thoughts of them. That would, of course, require Damen to be a bit more in control of his emotions, but Laurent was sure he could convince him of that. Besides, they would have the time. Damen would need a bit to recover from what Laurent planned to do to him.

A pin...

Laurent stopped in his tracks when Damen went on about some other pet, and it took a moment for him to connect the dots from the conversation at the table. Laurent smiled and shook his head.

“Even if they are blond with a calculating mind?” Laurent teased, holding the leather in his two hands and patting it to Damen’s chest.

“I know you never would,” Laurent reasoned with Damen soberly, assuring him that he knew the truth. “But I will have you know that, should you so desire it, you may have Soren anytime. I quite like him.”

* * *

Laurent didn’t explain the gift, and Damen found that even more odd. Perhaps it was something Veretian he didn’t understand. They would have time, and Laurent could teach him. There would be plenty more time to visit with their friends later in the evening, once he and Laurent had properly rested off the day of riding.

“I want Soren now, then,” Damen purred, pulling Laurent to him and holding him tight. “I did not like the way they were trying to touch you. It makes me question allowing pets at all, even with contracts. I’m not sure it’s so different than slavery.”

He kissed Laurent then, his hands coming up to his face, thumbing his cheek. His tongue slipped past Laurent’s lips, daring onlookers to spy on them from the stairs.

“I can’t resist you in that chiton,” Damen chuckled against Laurent’s mouth. “Did you see how they looked at you? That other pet wanted to be rid of you as fast as possible.” He pulled away, smiling. “If I didn’t think they would take so much pleasure in it, I would try to make them jealous by kissing you like this in front of them.”

* * *

“We did not have the time to properly show them who I belonged to,” Laurent soothed Damen, “And they will still need to learn respect of Akielos. It will come with your ascension to our throne, you will see. This town is small, not as progressive as others. They will learn. They will all learn.”

But that would be the last Laurent spoke of politics. Soren did not know politics and would not bog himself down with such frivolous knowledge. Well, he would, but he would have no say in it, and there was definitely something freeing about that right now.

Laurent met the kiss, his arm sneaking around Damen’s middle, still there in the hallway. This was still something Laurent would do, but...he still slipped into his Soren character. It was silly. Laurent was confident, and he would kiss Damen all the same, but this game...there was something in it that Laurent enjoyed, that he...needed. And he wanted to explore it.

And he thought Damen would like it to.

In a little surge of power, Laurent pushed Damen’s back against the door to their room, still kissing him deeply, pressed against him and meeting Damen’s tongue with his own, mindful of the pouch in his hands.

“I don’t mind that they would enjoy it,” Laurent murmured in that Akielon tongue. “I would have you show me off to them. /I/ would enjoy it far more than they ever would.”

* * *

With all that Laurent didn’t seem to enjoy about his own culture, sometimes Damen forgot he could be so Veretian. Without that silver tongue directed at him, it was easy to see Laurent as the loving and devoted partner Damianos had come to know. Instead, Laurent was still very much a Veretian prince, one that had grown up in the ways of this golden land and aristocracy.

He let out a grunt of surprise as he was pushed back against the wall, but eagerly pressed to Laurent’s mouth, wanting.

“We can put your trinket in our room and return,” Damen offered, hand already sliding up between Laurent’s legs, thumbing at the join of his inner thigh.

His free hand curled at the base of Laurent’s skull, pulling him in close again to press them flush together.

“This is my present to you,” Damen reminded him. “We will do whatever you desire, Soren, pet of Lamen.”

* * *

Laurent wanted to play with his ‘little trinket,’ wanted to pierce Damen as they had talked about, but he supposed that could wait. /That/ was an activity for Laurent and Damianos. This moment was for Soren and Lamen, so Laurent agreed to that and let Damen go long enough to place the needles by the bedside. He would explain to Damen later.

“Then I want to show off,” Laurent grinned, resituating that knife-sharp hairpin into his hair just in case. When their entourage came, Laurent would not be able to fall into character so easily. He would be reminded of his duties, reminded of who he should be, but for now, he had Soren. He had the opportunity of a life with no responsibilities but those of living pleasurably, and Laurent deserved that. He was twenty-one years old and running a kingdom left in ruins by the terrible leadership of his own bloodline. He deserved something easy.

“You’ll need to relax,” Laurent did tell Damen, turning back to him and once more pressing him against him. “There are people who do not like us out here, and perhaps...” Laurent had that conniving little smile again. “We should explore what it is like to agree with them...see what information we can garner like that.”

They had learned so much on their travels with Charls before they had outed themselves.

“I know it is asking a lot of you,” Laurent went on. “To lie, to cheat, to be so.../Veretian/, but I think we could both benefit from leaving ourselves behind for an evening here.”

* * *

The games were not yet done. Damen wasn’t surprised, and he was happy to indulge Laurent this once. He knew it would be different once the rest of their party arrived, and Laurent would not be so willing to play and toy.

“I cannot change face so easily now,” Damen chuckled, but he didn’t sound so sure. Laurent was as influential as any pet, had the effect on Damen as he did on the men downstairs.

“What would you have me do?” he asked, lifting Laurent by the hips, curling his arms underneath him to hold him up for a breathy kiss. He nipped Laurent’s bottom lip, trying to make them just a bit more swollen before they headed downstairs.

But he did carry Laurent down, and all eyes were on them again, watching with envy as Damen found a spot in the corner, a chais draped in furs, warm by the fire. A place for the richest guests.

Damen sat with his legs over the side, extending a hand.

“So, Soren, introduce yourself to the guests.”

* * *

“I would have you turn on yourself,” Laurent challenged Damen, letting the kiss take his breath for a long moment before they were once more headed down the stairs. Damen was carrying him like he weighed nothing, as he usually did, but down stairs was something new. Laurent may have clung a bit to keep himself from thinking he might fall.

But then, he was curled up with Damen on a chaise, lounged as a pet should be, curled up into his master, his usual disinterested look in his eyes. It was something Laurent could not shake after he’d beaten it into himself all those years ago.

“Soren,” he smiled at their new group. One or two were the men from before, but the three others were new. The man and his pet had seemingly left around the same time as Damen and himself, for they were nowhere to be seen. “Of Lord Lamen.”

And he laid his head in Damen’s lap.

This time, he was mindful of the chiton’s length, but there was only so much he could do.

“I have not yet heard a Veretian with so much knowledge of the Akielon language,” one of their new companions spoke up in the same language, a smile in his face. “It is not bad. You must be a fast learner.”

Laurent had been studying for years, but...that was a fine assessment.

* * *

The chaise was a much better choice. Damen prefered to have Laurent closer to him, curled against him like when they were in bed. It felt too casual for kings (it was) but that was the thrill of it. No one knew them. Damen was Lamen, a lord of Akielos with a stunning pet that others wanted but would never have.

“He is as sharp as he is beautiful,” Damen praised, smiling at the man, He carded his fingers though Laurent’s hair, weighing his demand. Turn on himself. Damen supposed he could do it—he had once been someone who would disagree with himself the way he was now.

“The future is unsure for us,” Damen said, annoyed. “As much as I would like to believe what I said earlier about pets, the new rules would most likely allow Soren to leave me whenever he chooses. Contracts will mean nothing. If Damianos does want Soren, I will have no choice. But perhaps King Laurent will do something out of jealousy. I hear he likes Akielons of my stature.”

“You could both be pets,” the man laughed in Akielon. “But I do agree. I would hesitate to bring a pet to the palace as an Akielon. Especially one like him.”

Damen frowned. “Soren, would you leave me for a king? The King of Akielos was a slave. You would let a slave bed you?"

* * *

Laurent had to take a full moment to process what he was hearing. He had asked Damen to turn against himself, but to hear him do it so well, so genuinely, so /quickly/! It was /so/ Veretian, and Laurent had to say he was as impressed as he was intrigued.

“I would not /want/ to leave you for the king,” Laurent frowned, reaching up to delicately brush his fingers over Damen’s sharp jaw. “But if His Majesty demands it, I will have no choice.”

“You would have a choice, young Soren,” the man responded with a chuckle. “King Laurent would give you /two/: Leave Vere forever or face the lash. That is how he handles those who oppose or inconvenience him.”

“And those would be your only choices,” the man beside their current conversational partner spoke in equally fluent Akielon. “King Laurent would not allow anyone near that lover of his. He seems to have enslaved the man further, to convince /two/ kingdoms that he could be loved.”

Laurent found the will to laugh with the men. It was nothing he had not heard before.

“I do not want to even /go/ to the palace,” Laurent lamented, eyes still up on Damen’s jaw. “But Lord Lamen was so requested, we could not stay away. Though I begged...and pleaded on my knees...”

Laurent was drawing it out as a proper pet would.

He had their attention.

“He dragged me out here in the cold. To visit some frigid king and his giant animal of a lover.” Laurent felt like he could say that, as he usually used it so fondly that Damen would understand.

* * *

“I would sooner take lashes to my own back before I let someone ruin you,” Damen said proudly, as though not intimidated by King Laurent. He would gladly put himself before the whip if it meant protecting Laurent. “You are worth far more than my land and my jewels.”

He laughed at the comments about them. “I am not so sure about that,” he said with a shake of his head. “King Damianos may be a fool, but he is too dull for such games. His obsession with King Laurent must be genuine, especially if it is true that he refused slaves during the takeover. Frigid or not, the King of Vere must be an excellent lay.”

It churned his gut to say it, but he had heard the sentiment before.

Laurent started into a spinning complaint of a pet, and Damen couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Just wait until you see Arles. You will beg me to wear only jewels then, and even those will feel too covering. I have heard Veretian pets only wear paint and earrings.”

Damen tipped up his nose in a gesture of a true spoiled brat.

“You will have to beg then, too,” he purred. “I look forward to it. You may even practice here, if you like.”

* * *

“I would wager the pets wearing only earrings and paint would not have such cruel masters as I,” Laurent teased, an air of grace and aristocracy in his voice. He played it off with a little pout - a /strange/ look on Laurent of Vere’s face. His eyes went absolutely doe-like, his lashes blinking a bit more rapidly than would be deemed normal. The men around laughed, and the momentary haughtiness was forgotten.

Laurent was still playing his fingertips at Damen’s jaw, just idly touching. He was smitten, but it was not all for the character of Soren.

There was /no/ character act that could /ever/ make Laurent beg, however. He would /never/ do that consciously again. So instead, he dropped his arm to cross his body, letting himself relax fully, his head still atop Damen’s thighs as a pillow.

“He would be absolutely breathtaking in nothing but jewels and paint,” the man across from them commented with a shake of his head, disbelieving the two of these men even existed. They were both so beautiful in different ways, and to think they had found each other—

And that they /did not/ share their love publicly.

“So you must both be of...Marlas, perhaps? Somewhere along the border?” The man went on, motioning to Damen and Laurent. “It’s very strange for an Akielon to have a pet, especially a Veretian one, as I understand. And it’s—you don’t share the traditional values of owning a pet, I notice. Not very...Veretian in your keeping.”

“He means you don’t share,” Laurent translated with a smirk.

* * *

Damen appreciated the attention, though he knew Laurent probably wouldn’t beg. He It verged on something beyond a game, and Damen didn’t want it to. He never wanted to be in a place where Laurent felt he had to beg him for anything. If that ever happened, he would know he had somehow lost his way. Gone mad, like some kings were apt to do in power. Not him. Not with Laurent.

He shrugged. “I own vast amounts of land in the South, and the North. I grew up with an appreciation for culture, but I am an Akielon. I follow most of the traditions of my homeland.”

He smiled down at Laurent, gently fingering the earring dangling at his ear.

“Would you like to show them what they cannot have, Soren?” Damen asked, the corner of his lip curling to a smile. He had no plans to take Laurent in front of anyone, but if they were going to have fun on this little trip, perhaps he needed to embrace a bit of Veretian culture.

“I would."

* * *

“That’s not very kind of you,” Laurent smiled at Damen’s offer. Smiled! He had been smirking all the while he’d been downstairs, but one good smile and /no one/ knew how to react. He didn’t have Damen’s dimples, but it seemed he had something just as enchanting about him. “But I suppose it is very Veretian,” Laurent added, adjusting his body in a way that kept him mindful of his short chiton.

Damen was a menace.

A menace that Laurent could not anticipate. Every time Laurent thought he had Damen figured out, he did something like this, and honestly, Laurent did not know what to expect out of him. Damen was so against being open and public with his interests and intimacies, and Laurent did not know what might be coming his way.

But Soren was grateful for any attention he received.

Just as much as Laurent was right now.

* * *

“I don’t think they would mind,” Damen said with a smile. Laurent’s smile had to be genuine because Damen couldn’t discern it from his faked polite ones he saw occasionally. Those were rare too. The man around them were all but gaping. Of course, Damen felt their gazes on him. He tried to ignore them, and the way it made his stomach pinch.

He wished he could speak to Laurent in a language that wasn’t understood by those watching. He tipped up Laurent’s chin and carefully leaned down, pressing his lips to Laurent’s. It was a sweet, passionate kiss, more loving than anything.

He sat up and reached for the soft pelt at the end of the chais, pulling it up to cover Laurent’s rear where the fabric would undoubtedly expose him. His hand slipped between Laurent’s legs, expertly hiding his intentions by flashing a wide smile and moving in for another kiss. He might not have been raised with a Veretian penchant for making love in the open, but he had snuck pleasure in many a banquet hall, teasing visitors into wanting to clamber into bed with him.

He hummed to himself and teased a finger further between Laurent’s legs, his other hand rubbing Laurent’s arm and distracting their onlookers.

When he pulled away, so did his finger.

“More?” he dared, grinning at Laurent. “I do hate sharing.”

* * *

Laurent’s genuine surprise was not that of a pet - but his interest was. He’d expected the kiss, had eagerly awaited it. The idea of having Damen here in front of everyone had pleased him greatly, to show that he /was/ loved by such a man, even if half the kingdom did not believe it...or know he was proving it here. Soren was just a pet and Lamen just a Lord of Akielos.

But there was a pride in this that Laurent could not deny.

He’d never considered himself as Veretian as his people, but there was something quite liberating about Damen touching him - /touching him/ - out here. It wasn’t behind closed doors, it wasn’t to be hidden. That meant a lot to Laurent - a lot more than he expected.

The fur was a grateful addition. Where a normal pet might want to show off what they had to offer, Laurent simply wasn’t for sale.

He smiled against Damen’s lips, something stirring in his gut as he deepened the kiss. Even with all eyes on them, with the noise of the inn, Laurent only saw Damen. And felt Damen. It had not felt this way since Sicyan, when they were both younger. Before the crown. After the fall of his uncle.

But Laurent still managed to make it a game.

“I could handle more,” he replied in easy Akielon - a phrase he knew more from wrestling Nik than an act like this, but it came out smoothly. It fit Soren’s little lifestyle perfectly.

* * *

Damen didn’t know what he’d been expecting from Laurent, but it wasn’t this. He didn’t seem to be playing at all, he seemed very much interested. If he had to guess, he would have pegged Laurent to be nervous in this situation. How dare Damen forget his betrothed was full-blooded Veretian. Any hesitation in Laurent was gone.

And his perfect Akielon phrase made Damen think less about the eyes on them. Lord Torvald had seen this Laurent, and now Damen was finally getting his chance.

His hands moved to Laurent’s thighs, pulling him up to meet his mouth. His tongue pushed easily into his mouth, tugging Laurent up to straddle him. He could feel heat in his blood, building and warming within him as they moved against each other.

Damen was cautious of the fur, but it wasn’t long before his hand was slipping underneath the hem of the chiton that had been teasing him all evening long. He even dared to palm against the soft skin of Laurent’s length—a place Damen didn’t touch as much as he ought to.

* * *

They had the attention of more than just the few men around them. This was a very Veretian sight - truly nothing new to those around - but it was so rare to see two such beautiful people together. The both of them were a sight together, every difference they had making them a perfect match. It was thrilling to wonder what ‘Soren’s’ lips would look like around ‘Lamen’s’ cock, how his body would look under his lover’s. Damen was a lot of man, someone every Veretian man wished they could be in one form or another, even if he was Akielon. They would put themselves in his place in their minds - and some would put themselves in Laurent’s place. They were both something to aspire to.

A pet would melt at this attention. This was the time to show off, to sell what they had to offer. This was the time for a pet to make a show out of what they had, but Laurent was fully focused on Damen, his eyes closed as he kissed him, touched him, felt him. He stayed in the bubble they had created, ignored what the people around him were undoubtedly doing—

And when he, in his best play as pet, let out a soft gasp at Damen’s touch, he had hooked them all.

Including, he was certain, Damen.

He bit down on his lip, curled his ivory fingers into Damen’s dark hair and /pushed against his hand/ pointedly. It was all for the game, and Laurent would see who would yield first.

“It’s never enough with you, my lord,” he murmured, darkened eyes directly on Damen’s, a challenge ever present between them. Damen has made him yield once, and Laurent had taken that to heart. He would not yield again.

* * *

Damen had kissed Laurent like this many times, but this one was different. Despite being watched, Damen felt more involved with Laurent than ever. His breath mixed with Laurent’s, his body reacted quickly and heavily despite himself. He had wanted this so many times without even realizing it. Laurent on top of him, pearls in his ear, his chiton thin and only scarcely covering him.

The gasp went right to his cock, and Damen understood now why so many Veretians simply unlaced themselves at the cock and no further. He very much wanted that right now, but even in this haze he knew he would never be able to take Laurent like this. Some day he would have to, but not tonight.

His hand moved to Laurent’s entrance as he smirked. Oh, so this was to be a game? He circled his finger, thankful for the cover of the furs as he latched to Laurent’s neck, sucking a mark into his pale skin, flicking his tongue over the spot—

A man near them made a soft groan.

Damen stilled at once, cheeks suddenly burning white hot against Laurent’s skin.

What was he _doing_?

* * *

Had Damen not stopped, Laurent never would have noticed the gasp. There was something about this that Laurent was enjoying more than he ever thought he would. It was the openness of it, and not just in a Veretian way, but in the way that Damen did not mean to hide him, as the first man who had taken advantage of him had. But this was more than that. This was Vere and this was Akielos, unabashed in the open, together, in love, completely taken with each other—

And the sentiment did not stop just because Damen did.

Laurent’s breathing was tight as he pulled back, softly panting, interested in what they had right now. It had, admittedly, not been like this for them in some time. Laurent was idly reminded of Ravenel, of when he had wanted Damen so badly, he had tried to have him without any type of oil. He had learned that was foolish moments later, when Damen had retrieved it in a such an unorthodox fashion and they still had a bit of trouble, but…Laurent remembered it fondly.

He didnt know what this sudden surge was, but…maybe it was just the chiton. Maybe it was the crowd. Maybe it was finally having a moment of leisure, letting his mind and body relax. Maybe it was the character, the freedom to not think about being a fucking king at twenty-one years old. But Laurent was enjoying himself. And he would make sure Damen was as well.

“Not here,” Laurent said very breathily, almost…desperately. He was…begging, and it was so unlike him, but he knew what he had to do to get Damen out of there. “I want you alone. In our room. My time with you is so short. /Please/.”

And though his voice wavered, his eyes were on Damen, steady and sure, shining something victorious.

Because /he/ had not been the one to yield.


	21. Part II: An Extended Stay (26.4.20)

Damen didn’t want to stop, but he couldn’t shake the discomfort of being watched. He wanted to match Laurent’s fervor and lust—and it was shocking that he was the one behind. He was almost certain it wasn’t the game, but if it was, he was luckier than any man in the world. Everyone at the inn could see it, and they were all captivated by them. Damen wished he could just be free here, but he was still Akielon. Laurent was his, no one else’s. So was Soren.

His mouth went dry when Laurent started begging, and Damen had to sit there for a few moments, watching with wide eyes and choked breathing. He had /never/ seen Laurent like this.

“Excuse us,” Damen managed to get out. He leaned up for a final desperate kiss and hefted Laurent up by the backs of his thighs, carrying him so that Laurent was against his length as Damen carried him to the stairs.

“We will pay!” a man called. “Name a price and I will pay it!”

“Please!”

Damen’s eyes were on Laurent, infatuated. “We will not be disturbed.” He held his betrothed to him and made his way up to their little room, their little doorway flying open as they pushed inside, mouths together, Damen unable to get enough.

“You truly want this?” he asked, slamming the door shut with his foot and adjusting his grip to lock the door withe a free hand. He dumped Laurent on the bed but didn’t pull off the chiton. “Do not undress."

* * *

Laurent held that act until they were up the stairs, the pleas of their would-be crowd severed by Damen’s steadfast stance on not sharing Laurent. Laurent went from that little pleading pet to himself, a victorious little smirk on his face before Damen caught his lips, pulled him back into the moment.

They were so intimately pressed together, and Damen was manhandling Laurent as he liked, and when he tossed Laurent in the bed, there was a flash of defiance in Laurent’s dark eyes - one easily quelled as Damen closed the distance between them.

Laurent would never beg and mean it, but the little act had been fun for the moment. But the act was gone, and Laurent was here with Damen, his weight on his elbows as he supported himself, watching Damen, waiting to see what he intended.

“But what I want involves my undressing,” Laurent replied explicitly. “You would keep that from me?”

Laurent was being brazen, but there was definitely an excitement causing his voice to waver, his eyes still stuck on Damen, decisive and with clear intentions. He wanted to be bedded - wanted it before his mind took off with this vulnerability.

* * *

“I will keep it from you,” Damen assured him immediately. “I have been teased by that chiton long enough—I will take you in it.” It was unbelievable how a bit of silk could drive him wild, but it was a show, the exposure and hiding of the most intimate parts of Laurent, soft skin and curves only he was allowed to touch. The ruse of the pet was gone in Laurent’s posture and eyes now, but Damen was not finished yet.

It didn’t take long to procure the oil, but this time Damen handed it to Laurent. If he wanted to be bedded like the pet in Arles, he would be in charge of preparing himself. The less Damen was responsible for, the better.

“I will fuck you as you asked,” Damen said, his voice low and wanting. “But let’s continue the game. You need not beg—though I will admit that spurred this idea—but I would feel more comfortable fucking Soren in such a way.”

He reached out, fingering the earring as he had downstairs.

“I have not seen that look in your eyes since the first time,” he whispered. “I do not wish to see it leave.”

* * *

Laurent’s lips were parted, his breathing soft as Damen /took/ control of the moment. He never did that, as usually Laurent would not let him, but it fit him so well. Laurent would never suggest he was giving control over, but Damen had definitely lifted it from somewhere, and Laurent loved to see this side of him.

And he had to say he enjoyed the idea of keeping the chiton on. Not only did it help with character, it would keep Laurent from feeling so exposed. I matter how Damen took him now, it would seem that he was unable to wait to remove the cover of his lover, and he would look like the one desperate and wanton. Laurent would never say that of himself.

So he took the oil, spread it over his fine bred fingers as he adjusted himself on the bed, hips canted forward, thighs open, exposing himself more like a woman than the way he positioned himself when Damen prepped him. It was so he could watch Damen, let Damen watch him. Laurent did not forget that Damen, though he loved Laurent, had a preference for women before he’d fallen for the prince of Vere, and Laurent could so easily straddle the line of gender when his body was covered, so why not blur it here as well? There was not much he could hide, but the position would be a bit more familiar. Until Damen did as he pleased with Laurent.

His stomach fluttered at the very thought.

With his eyes on Damen, and his entrance exposed under the chiton, Laurent prepped himself. One finger down to the second knuckle, followed by a second, working in and out of his body. The look Damen so desired never left his eye, especially as he fell more and more into what they were doing here. It was filthy, to be so presented like this, especially considering he was a /king/, but it was just him and Damen - Damen, whom he trusted more than anyone in this world. He did not care what he appeared as. Only that they enjoyed it.

“My lord,” Laurent murmured, his Akielon taking over his Veretian as he eased Damen into this. It helped him as well, soothed the nerves that flit about his stomach. His eyes has fallen from Damen as his cheeks went ruddy, as his breathing genuinely quickened. “I have made you wait. You’ll forgive me.”

* * *

It was Damen’s turn to be virginal. He just stood there, stupefied while Laurent spread his legs, positioning himself like a woman. It had to be intentional, but Damen couldn’t stop staring, watching as Laurent prepped himself with his fingers. Their titles didn’t matter here in the privacy of their own rooms. They coudl be Soren and Lamen, suspend reality as much as they needed to to find what they wanted. Needed.

Laurent didn’t shy from his role, and in turn Damen solidified his. The balance had to be maintained on both sides for this to work, and watching Laurent work his fingers inside himself made him lose his bearings for a moment, completely engulfed in his lust. He was so desperately in love and desperately wanting.

And hearing him talk like that…

Damen said nothing, he just slicked oil on his own fingers and began working his length after freeing it from the laces Laurent had tied so tight, continuing to watch until he was fully hard, which took no time at all with the way Laurent was splayed.

When he approached the bed, he took Laurent’s chin, kissed him passionately. He never wanted Laurent to think he was being used for pleasure, not even during a game. His tongue slipped into Laurent’s mouth, pressing into him to force Laurent back on the mattress.

“You have made me wait long enough,” he confirmed. He took Laurent by the hips and flipped him onto his belly, pushing up the chiton to expose him again. Damen yanked his pants down, growling under his breath until they were discarded with his boots on the floor.

Then he gripped Laurent again, hiking him up onto his knees. “You will tell me if I hurt you,” he commanded.

Then he pushed his way inside, strong and unyielding.

* * *

Laurent didn’t mind showing off as he was. Like this, he could watch Damen’s lust grow for him, could watch as Damen fell for him again. It wasn’t a broken pitcher, but watching Damen undo his Veretian lacings, pulling himself out of his pants and prepping himself was just as flattering for Laurent who was, he believed, sufficiently open.

The kiss was met deliberately. In their time together, Laurent had learned to kiss in a less methodical way, had learned to just allow himself to enjoy Damen’s lips and tongue. It had taken practice, but slowly, Damen had truly begun to shape Laurent into someone who could enjoy passion in another. Well, in Damen, but the sentiment was still there.

Damen flipped him around, and Laurent caught himself before his face hit the bedding, his chest rising and falling as he already gripped the sheets. He had only ever seen Damen like this with that pet ya the ceremonies, when he could not control himself...and Laurent didn’t hate it. Yes, he liked it slow, he Damen had his likes too, and truly, this was a learning experience about his lover...as well as an experiment for Laurent. He wasnt frightened, wasn’t worried. He placed his knees on the bed as he was dragged around and looked back at Damen with a level gaze.

“I will,” he promised Damen, and then Damen pushed in.

Laurent’s head dropped between his shoulders, a shiver running up his whole body as Damen pushed straight into him. Laurent had practice taking Damen into his body, but there was still resistance. But Laurent had learned to relax since their first time together, and he accepted all of Damen, letting out a hard breath when he was fully on him, having held that breath in during the entire insertion of Damen’s length.

Laurent’s thighs shook. That had been a /lot/ of sensation, but it had not been pain.

“I did not know you could feel any larger,” Laurent said in Akielon, using the same term for ‘bigger’ as he and before, since now it was technically in the right context. He had never before taken all of Damen without a break or so in between to adjust.

He instinctually moved his hand to his lower stomach, as if making sure his insides were still arranged before he moved to stroke at his own cock a few times, hardening it back up after that bit of shock to his body had softened him. It was normal for the receiver to have this happen - Laurent had made sure of it in watching pets that did, in fact, love their masters.

With his hands planted back on the bed, anticipating what he could, Laurent took a soft breath and said, “Surely you do not intend to use me to just warm it,” as an invitation to Damen.

* * *

Lust made it difficult for Damen to fully recognize what he was doing as he pushed himself to be sheathed in Laurent. He was deliciously tight, warm and wet with oil. Had Damen been thinking rationally he might have anticipated resistance, but he was not thinking rationally, only about plunging his cock into Laurent of Vere, who seemed very happy to take it.

His only reply to Laurent’s compliment was a grunt, for he was too busy absorbing the feeling of being fully sheathed. His body was humming with energy, a hot, gnawing lust that threatened to destroy him if he drew this out any longer.

He could feel every moment of Laurent’s body as he stroked himself, and the haze of his desire spun time in his head so that he did not realize how much time had passed.

“No,” Damen finally choked out in agreement. He bucked his hips once before repositioning himself, his hands firm on Laurent’s hips, one leg coming up to bend beside him so he could get the perfect angle.

Then he started in. Heady, powerful thrusts that jerked the bed frame, slamming it against the wall in the familiar rhythm of passionate lovemaking he was sure their earlier observers could hear. Damen didn’t relent, he was too far gone for that.

This wasn’t about drawing anything out, and Damen made that quite clear with his ever increasing speed, fucking into Soren— _Laurent_ —with abandon. He wanted a carnal fuck, the most basic of pleasure, and he intended to find it here on a shaking bed inside his betrothed.

* * *

The bed shifted as Damen repositioned himself, and Laurent didn’t have the time to process that as ‘new’ before he was on the receiving end of what he had, admittedly, asked for.

Laurent could not have anticipated this type of fucking at all. He instantly felt small, but not in a way that disturbed him. Laurent was strong in his own right, but Damen was the one in power here, and Laurent was at something like his mercy. He trusted Damen, so that did not worry him either. What truly bothered Laurent was how quickly he lost control. /Lost/ it. He had no hope of hanging onto it when he was being fucked like this, and that was what he could not have anticipated.

This was not fucking meant for a /king/ to receive. With every thrust, Damen pushed a sound out of Laurent’s mouth. They weren’t soft sounds, weren’t controlled and measured responses to his pleasure. They were sounds of surprise, of bubbling pleasure he could not suppress. Every time the bed rocked, the bang against the plaster wall was met with groan from Laurent, a moan, a gasp that he couldn’t hope to hold back. He didn’t have the mind to. All he could do was grip the bed, his cheek against the soft bedding, and accept it.

Usually, Laurent’s mind only silenced during his climax, but it didn’t have a /chance/ to pervade his pleasure even early into the thrusting. Everything was warmth, was pressure, was a complete surrender of his body to Damen that he never would have allowed consciously, but did not hate now that he had. For a moment, Laurent was just a man, twenty-one years old and with his lover, enjoying his body. There was no council, no wars of the past, no politics, no kingship. Just himself and Damen.

And Laurent let himself have it.

Laurent let out a sound that was not unlike one of frustration as he clawed into the bedding, trying to keep Damen from pushing him forward across the bed as he had been. Laurent’s chiton had pooled at its tie around his waist, leaving him completely exposed to Damen, whose large, warm hands held tight to his waist, anchoring him. He /cried out/ into the room when Damen hit that spot inside of him that made his legs tremble.

Damen, even like this, was a thorough lover.

* * *

Damen had been convinced this kind of fucking would not happen until years down the line, when he and Laurent were seamlessly connected, with full trust, with Laurent willingly handing over control. Now Damen was taking it from him and he could hear as well as feel that Laurent was not going to be able to claim it back this time. Each sound pushed from those perfect lips drove Damen wild with lust to a degree he didn’t think he’d ever experienced before.

He continued, adjusting himself for better angles based on the sounds escaping Laurent. He was sure those downstairs could hear them, but he was fine with that. Damen had no qualms with someone crying out in pleasure for all to hear—he took it as a compliment. And if anyone knew just who was making these noises…well, he might quickly become the most infamous man in the two kingdoms.

As a well-practiced man in the art of lovemaking, Damen knew where to test, where to direct the force of his thrusts. And when he found taht spot inside Laurent, he smirked around his grunting, and focused his energy on hitting that spot repeatedly. He wanted to pummel the pleasure out of his beloved, a sensation he was sure Laurent had never experienced.

He reached down, gripping Laurent’s hair. Easy to grip, just as Damen had warned it would be.

It wasn’t long before even Damen had to succumb to the pleasure of fucking. He quickened his pace yet again, pounding into Laurent with all he could muster of his tiring body until his hips were stuttering, and Damen let out a soft noise of his own as he spilled hot into him, milking his orgasm as he bent over his betrothed, panting harshly.

* * *

Laurent had been taking advantage of the pillow bed beneath him, using it to muffle what sounds he could, until Damen went and pulled his hair back, angling him in a way that he no longer had that luxury. From then on, his noises were made to the air, undoubtedly heard in the rooms adjacent and below. The lie of Soren not understanding a bit of Veretian went out the door with all the Veretian cries of ‘Yes’ that Laurent gasped out.

When the pace increased again, Laurent gripped behind him, his fingers finding the right muscle of Damen’s thighs and holding, as if trying to push him in deeper and still him all at once. It was an onslaught of pleasure, one Laurent was not used to, but standing strong through in an amazing feat of stamina. His thighs ached, and though Damen was holding him up by his hair, his thighs and arms were still supporting him...even when he wanted nothing more than to fall to the bed, give himself wholly to Damen.

When he could sense Damen chasing his own pleasure, Laurent reaches down between his own legs and took hold of his own length, bobbing with every thrust from Damen. In a firm grasp, he worked himself towards completion, fisting faster as Damen thrust harder, deeper—

“Damen, yes,” Laurent gasped, and lucky for the both of them, it was growled, low, not nearly as loud as his final cry of, “/Yes/!”

And then Laurent was spilling with little gasps, just as Damen had begun to fill him in return with another wasted chance at an Akielon heir. Or three. Damen always had so much to give.

When it was over, Laurent let Damen collapse on top of him. He took them both down to the bed, Laurent panting in a way he never did, freely showing his exertion and the effect it had on him.

And he didn’t feel foolish. He wasn’t embarrassed by how he had just acted, wasn't at all ashamed to letting himself be lost to pleasure. A little laugh bubbled into his breathing, followed almost instantly by a soft moan as he felt Damen, still inside of him.

* * *

Damen emptied himself into Laurent, still savoring the sounds of Laurent’s pure pleasure that seemed to echo in the room. Finally, he had gotten Laurent to stop thinking about sex as some fort of art and to give himself over to the carnal desires of pleasure and fucking. Everyone in the inn had probably heard them, and Damen could not wait to run his hands over Laurent’s body, for it was like new to him.

He did his best no to smother Laurent when he rested on top of him, both of them slick with warm sweat from lovemaking. The chiton was coiled and damp, and Damen’s hair was sticking to his temples as he hitched his hips to remain inside when he settled.

“So passionate,” he praised, feathering his lips at Laurent’s ear, rolling his hips once more to milk every last drop from his cock. “You did so well, my love.”

/That/ had been the fuck Damen had needed out of this trip. Exertion and sweat, passion and eagerness that only young couples could sustain. And they were both so young still.

He kissed the nape of Laurent’s neck as the aftershocks hummed through him and only when he absolutely had to did he pull out. He fetched a washcloth and dipped it in the provided basin before returning to bed. He gently cleaned Laurent, ensuring he had not been so rough as to cause any blood. Thankfully, there was none.

“Would you like me to finish with my tongue?” he offered, unashamed. “It may help the soreness. At least, that is what I have been told."

* * *

Laurent had not been looking for or expecting praise, but when he received it, he hummed in gratitude, pleasantly exhausted from their coupling. He had never had Damen in such a way, so fully and so desperately, and to think that Damen had come undone in such a way for /him/ had more than warmed him thoroughly. Laurent had been fucked to the point of happy smiles, of little noises and contentment. It was foolish, it was juvenile, but he had so enjoyed himself.

He would not say he preferred this type of fucking. No, he much preferred the slow thrusts, the little whispers they shared, but this was something Damen liked, and Laurent did not /dislike/ it. They could have it like this again sometime.

But Laurent’s head was clearing as Damen went about cleaning /him/. Laurent had not even thought to rise to his feet, had barely registered Damen had risen until he realised just how chilled his back was without Damen there atop him. Laurent felt sufficiently satisfied, and did not trust himself to be given over to more pleasure now. He’d made quite enough noise.

“You animal,” Laurent teased breathily, looking over his shoulder at his betrothed. Damen looked as if he had just exerted himself, which made Laurent feel quite prideful. His hair was damp with sweat and curling even more so than usual, he had a light flush to his cheeks, he had stopped panting, but he had been panting - directly into Laurent’s ear. Damen had enjoyed himself. It meant everything to Laurent.

“The towel will do,” Laurent chuckled turning back to rest his head on his folded arms before adding on honestly. “I do not know that I could take your tongue right now.”

Though it was an attractive image.

“I do hope,” Laurent went on lazily, “that this chiton was not of Kemptian silk.” For it had just been ruined. “I hope you brought me more to wear.”

* * *

Damen beamed when called an animal, because he knew that it meant Laurent had been pleasured completely. He looked properly disheveled, and properly fucked, if Damen could be so bold. He also quite enjoyed the sight of Laurent’s flank exposed, the chiton still pushed up to his hips. He was a beautiful sight like this, and Damen wished he had the artistic ability to paint it. He also wished he had the stamina to take Laurent again, just like this.

“it is Kemptian silk,” he murmured, moving to bend over Laurent again. Maybe he wasn’t allowed to use his tongue on Laurent’s entrance, but he had other ways. He mouthed along the backs of Laurent’s thighs, running his hands over his body, nipping tender flesh when he could reach it. He was /so/ tempted to spread him open, to taste him again.

“I have plenty more,” Damen assured him. “Veretian and Akielon alike. Some chitons are longer—as Lamen, I would say Soren should wear those. Unless you wish me to make love to you like this every time.”

He sat up and untied the chiton at Laurent’s waist, pulling it off of him and tossing it to the floor. He liked the warmth and small size of their room, especially when he finally freed himself of his damn Veretian jacket and shirt (ripping most of the laces). He moved over Laurent again, nibbling at his earlobe.

“I could take you again,” he whispered into Laurent’s ear. “Put my hand over your mouth and keep you quiet so I do not have to share your sounds."

* * *

Damen truly had come prepared on this trip, which pleased Laurent greatly. Had he known about this little escape, he would have taken it all under himself, set every facet of packing and travelling so there was no room for the unexpected. But to have all of these surprises, to know Damen could and had conduct such an orchestrated getaway was enough for Laurent to relax...and surprisingly, fall in love with him even more.

“There will be time for that later,” Laurent dismissed Damen with a stretch and a kiss, lazy and languid, much like every movement he could muster now. He would ache come the morning, would gladly welcome a day to rest his body, to luxuriate with ‘Lamen’ in the hall. His own men would be present then, but Laurent could not be moved to care. Many of them would be partaking in the same pleasures of the evening as he had.

He enjoyed Damen’s attention on his body for a while, touching him gently, combing his fingers through Damen’s hair, working out the curls such an exhaustive effort had given him. Laurent laid there and simply melted under Damen’s tried and true touches, until his breath hitched and he dragged Damen up on top of him for a kiss.

“Go fetch my gift,” Laurent murmured after a long break of merely kissing Damen, enjoying the feeling of his warm tongue in his mouth and away from other parts of his body which might excite him too much. They had the evening, and they had the day. Laurent had enjoyed himself, but he was not yet ready for another go, though he would not admit it.

Just as he would not be moving out of the bed anytime soon.

* * *

Laurent was wise to distract his mouth. Damen wasn’t sure he would have been able to refrain from pleasuring him with his tongue. Instead he moved up Laurent’s body, found his mouth and stayed there. It was easy, languid kissing, the kind that could only come after an exhausting session of lovemaking.

He touched as he wanted, kissed as he wanted, and no words needed to be said. Laurent was fully his—perhaps for the first time. There was no part of him off limits, and Damen allowed the same from Laurent.

Laurent kissed him a bit more forcefully after they spent long moments together, and Damen hummed his appreciation. It took him a long moment to recall the gift Soren had found for him, and Damen wasn’t sure what a pin would be useful for right now, but he thought perhaps something was still hidden in he pouch.

“How dare you make your master move from bed,” Damen teased, crawling from the mattress and over to the small table where Laurent had stored his pouch. He returned to bed, kissing Laurent again for a long moment before handing over the gift.

“Do tell me, Soren, what you have procured for me."

* * *

“A true Veretian keeps their pet content,” Laurent told Damen from the bed, taking a moment to enjoy the view he was given. He still could not find it in him to stare at Damen’s back, but the rest of his backside was still quite nice. Laurent could navigate around it easily enough. “I would think /my/ Lord would strive to keep me /happy/.”

It was even more pleasurable to watch Damen walk /back/.

Laurent had a smile stuck on his face, arms outstretched to collect his gift—

And instead getting an armful of Damen, which he would never complain about.

The kissing continued for a brief interlude, even after Laurent’s hand closed around the pouch. When their lips parted, Laurent was in possession of the bag, a grin of delight on his lips as he pulled out - in full - the first needle.

With the length at about five inches, the needle was quite intimidating even for the man who the needle would not be going into.

He looked up at Damen through his lashes, tried to soften the blow as he raised the needle for Damen to see properly. If that wasn’t fear enough, Laurent pulled the tiny golden bars from within the pouch as well that would act as jewellery, delight evident in his expression.

* * *

Well, it only took about three seconds for Damen to recognize what was in Laurent’s hand, and another two for him to realize where it would be going. The needle was /sharp/ and the way it glinted in the light of the brazier made it seem more like a fang than an instrument to pierce with.

“Have you been taught how to use that?” Damen questioned, instinctively leaning away. “And I believe the promise was that I would be inside you when you do it. Either way, I will need wine. Quite a bit of it.”

Why had he agreed to this? He quite liked his nipples the way they were.

“Perhaps I should stand outside bare-chested. Cold will numb them, yes?” He didn’t try to hide his nerves from Laurent. Surely he saw just how intimidating these were, and how unpleasant they would be to be pierced with.

“Again, do you actually know what you're doing with those?"

* * *

To watch Damen go from what he had been when fucking Laurent to /this/ was delightfully humorous. Laurent could do nothing to stifle his laughter as his beloved /shied away from him/ in a way he had never done before! Not even after Laurent had brutalised him. All this over his nipples.

“It is a skill of precision’s stabbing,” Laurent replied eloquently, rocking the length of the needle between his thumb and forefinger. “How dare you presume I do not know exactly what I am doing.”

The man downstairs had given Laurent a nice little tutorial as it was, anyway.

“I do not /have/ to do it this evening,” Laurent did tell Damen, and he did slide the needle back into its pouch. “But I merely wanted you to know that, in our estranged relationship, this pet had bought his master a gift. Or—“ Laurent started, handing the pouch back over for Damen to return to its spot. “Call it a royal gift.”

Damen would look stunning with the piercings, and Laurent would undoubtedly find endless hours of unconscious enjoyment out of them. It truly was a victory on all fronts for everyone involved.

“When the time comes, I will properly prepare you,” Laurent assured Damen, but he didn’t let it go until he added snarkily, “I would not make you prepare /yourself/ for it.” A playful jab. Laurent would never regret making Damen look at him as he had for his actions.

“It will hurt no more than this,” Laurent told Damen, poking his fingers into the scar left from Kastor’s blade. In fact, he went around with a few sweet “Or this”s as he brought attention to all of Damen’s battle wounds he had collected over the years. He pointedly did not bring up the one Auguste had left. This was not the time or place.

“I’ll not let them fall off. You need not worry.”

* * *

“Yes, but you have to know where to stab in order to do so with precision,” Damen reminded him, still eyeing the needle. He was not well versed in bodily anatomy, but generally sensitive places were the most vulnerable. Laurent stabbing him in the wrong place might very well result in a puncture to some organ or place on his body that could bleed out or at least be very very painful.

“Our last night here,” Damen decided. “That way if you mar me I will not have to be in pain instead of bedding you.” He would have a few precious days left, and he hoped that Laurent would not push the issue.

Poking at the scars that had each marked a time he had almost died? Not effective in convincing him otherwise.

“You are attracted to scars?” Damen teased, finding Laurent’s lips for a kiss. And then another, sweeter, deeper. He groaned softly, arms moving to brace either side of Laurent’s head. His body was tired, but his mind was not. He wanted to take advantage of every second of exploration of his beloved king.

“Behave,” he murmured, grinning. “A pet making such bold claimed about my lack of preparation will be taken again, made to remind himself how skilled Lamen is at the art of lovemaking."

* * *

“It is not like I do not have a pronounced target,” Laurent droned off, waving his hand nonchalantly, dismissing Damen’s silly worrying. Laurent would not be so trepidatious about a piercing. He had had his ear pierced around the age of seventeen - a fun little evening in a brothel with the ladies which he did not use as they had, perhaps, expected. Or perhaps they had never expected if of him at all. The pain could not be so much worse.

As if the ear lobe and the nipple were the same….

He did admire Damen’s scars, admired his history and what he had been through, admired his strength, his victories. Laurent had made that obvious over their time together, for Damen had clearly clued into it enough to ask.

All Laurent gave him was, “/Your/ scars.”

It was enough for their playful mood—

And Damen’s bold mood.

“I do not think Soren will soon forget how skilled Lamen is,” Laurent laughed, relaxing into the bed, luxuriating in the warmth of the hearth, the closeness to Damen. “It was not the four hours that was rumored to me, but it was sufficient.”

It was more than sufficient, but Damen knew that as well.

* * *

“Seven,” Damen was quick to correct (again). He kissed along Lauren’t collarbone, his shoulders. He wanted to take him again, to have his pet in front of everyone. Well, to have them hear it. He also wanted him drenched in gold, but Pallas had all of the jewelry with him. A shame, as Damen would very much have preferred to make love to Soren with him only in jewels.

He mouthed at Laurent’s neck. His hands wandered Laurent’s body, slow but pressing. It was clear what he wanted, even if he kew he would not have it.

“You drive me wild,” Damen slurred against Laurent’s skin. “I cannot have enough of you. Not even seven hours of you.” And now that he’d had him in the way Damen most preferred? He would not soon forget it.

“The way you called for me…” He buried his face into Laurent’s neck, groaning at just the thought. He was absolutely besotted. No amount of love he had ever felt in his entire life combined compared to what he felt for the man beneath him.

* * *

A beast. He would soon be married to an insatiable beast. Their kingdom would fall to ruin after mere months because Damen would not let them leave the bedroom. Laurent could see it now.

And it warmed him from his chest outward, left him with a feeling he could only ever attribute to Damianos of Akielos. The feeling did not scare him as much as it once had, and Laurent welcomed it. Even when it came with a flush.

His skin, fine and bred to bruise like fruit, was mottled with colour - from the red of his blush, to the purple of new marks being mouthed into his skin, to the yellows and greens left behind by Damen’s fingertips. It distracted from the worst of the blush that had taken him as Damen spoke of those recent moments passed.

“Did I call for you any differently?” Laurent asked, idly running his hand over Damen back - his /back/! And without thought! His fingertips traced lines, and Laurent - contented with their escape, satisfied with the evening, and warmed by Damen’s love - thought nothing of it. “You act as if we have never fucked before. Have I been so negligent of you?”

* * *

“You did,” Damen purred. He arched into the touches to his back, veyr much enjoying them. he couldn’t recall Laurent ever touching him there, and it was like scratching an itch he hadn’t known was itching. The touch was comforting, warming, and Damen could not help but kiss his way up Laurent’s throat, marking and tasting along the way.

“You were desperate for me to fill you,” he continued, smiling against the warmth of Laurent’s flushed skin. “Usually I am lucky to get one cry from you, but this time I got so many I could not count them all. And we have never fucked like that before.”

He had thought Laurent would not be ready for that kind of lovemaking for some time, but the game of pet and master had led in well to Laurent giving himself over. There had been no resistance, no attempts to regain composure from Laurent in a position that allowed for no composure to start with.

“You have proven me wrong,” Damen admitted. “I did not think you were ready, and yet you excelled. And this time I know it is in an area you do not have experience. I will admit the swordsmanship blunder was mine alone. Thankfully I did not have to learn in combat."

* * *

Laurent lit up with absolute delight when Damen admitted he had been wrong, that he had been /proven/ wrong by Laurent. He had told Damen that he was ready, that he did not need the months of waiting and training Damen he presumed he would. Laurent had been right and Damen had admitted to it. It pleased Laurent greatly, the praise giving him a glow atop all of his warmth.

“You doubt me more than you should,” Laurent teased, moving his hands to Damen’s lower back. “It is almost insulting.” But Laurent would not hold it against him tonight.

His hands moved back up into Damen’s hair, once there was no more neck for Damen to kiss and Laurent wanted to taste his lips again. He kissed him deeply, still smiling with all that prideful glow, warm and comfortable.

And a little achy.

“And you were right,” Laurent tacked on without any hint of negativity, “about my swordsmanship. Once. You said I could not beat you and I could not.” It had been humiliating then, had hurt Laurent in a way he had never prepared for - for he had never prepared to /lose/. But that meant nothing now. That fight, his loss. It was a part of their past. Nothing more.

“But if you would ever let me spar with you again, I would /absolutely destroy you/.”

* * *

Damen found Laurent’s mouth when it was prompted of him, and the kiss was as sweet at the touches to his back. He loved Laurent so desperately. He laughed when Laurent brought up his sword fighting, and the match Damen had won fair and square. Laurent would not beat him, but they could pretend.

“Unless you have gained six years of skill in the two months you have been apart from me, you will not,” he teased. He had no desire to spare with his betrothed in the near future. He only wanted moment like these, and any time sparring was time they could be spending like this.

“You should take a hot bath,” Damen murmured against Laurent’s mouth. “It will help with the soreness.”

Laurent would be bruised all over by the end of this trip. Damen could not wait to see the looks on Veretian faces when Laurent returned obviously fucked out. He would take great pride in that (correct) assumption.

“I could also pleasure you,” he offered again. “Again, that would help as well."

* * *

“I am perfectly capable of handling any soreness you may have left with me,” Laurent assured Damen as he rolled onto his back into the bedding, bringing up his hand in an exaggerated movement - to show he was just fine with moving about, no soreness to be spoken of. Yet. His hand danced in the air for a moment before he brought it to his ear, removed the beautiful earring Damen had given him so as to not lose it in the night. He placed it alongside his hairpin, gathering all his pet ornamentation in one area before falling back to the bed again.

“I will drop you in Vask if you continue this prodding,” Laurent murmured, looking over to Damen coolly, his fine brow arched as he regarded his beloved.

How had he ever become so lucky a man so as to have Damianos by his side?

There were legends of men who looked like Damianos. Herculean gods, statues of men made in his very image before Damen was even born. He was the ideal man - the ideal warrior. He was the ideal partner, the ideal lover.

Laurent would be so sore in the morning....

“Slowly,” he finally murmured, pushing his back to Damen’s chest, bringing their hips close, fitting himself into the curve Damen’s relaxing body created. Laurent pulled Damen’s arm around him by the hand, kissed his beloved’s knuckles. He arched his back, presenting himself to Damen, assuming he knew what to do from there.

* * *

Damen did no have to be told twice. A few moments later he had slicked himself again, and was eagerly pushing back inside of Laurent, though he wasn’t fully hard. He let out a little sigh of utter contentment when he was fully sheathed, very much enjoying the comfort and newness of this position on their sides. It was perfect amount of intimacy, and limited him from losing control.

“So generous this evening,” Damen huffed out with a grin. His hand gripped Laurent’s hip, pulling him flush before allowing his hand to slip down and close around Laurent’s cock. He began slow strokes, matching his stuttered thrusts that ended up being more like gentle rolls of his hips. There was none of he power and carnal need he’d displayed before.

But there was plenty of lust. Damen was worked into a sweat not long into this gentle way of fucking, and his breath was heady little pants against Laurent’s neck and shoulder.

Laurent was utterly perfect in bed. His body, his sounds, his teasing. Each time Damen was gifted the chance to be inside him, it was something close to heavenly.

“You’re perfect,” Damen groaned, rocking up into him again, and flicking his wrist just a bit for matching friction. “I would have you like this each night if I could."

* * *

Laurent decided he did prefer this slow sort of coupling, these lazy forays into passion and pleasure, gently exploring and succumbing to lust while enveloped in a deep intimacy. He preferred this, yes, but he also found himself missing just how quiet the more aggressive fucking had left his mind. He would not say his mind wandered now, during this little bout, but this slower coupling definitely gave his brain the opportunity to do so.

But Laurent gave himself to this. He had been set up so beautifully for a peaceful fuck by Damen, had been taken so far from his duties and his stresses, that even when his mind did wander, it was only to Damen, buried inside of him, praising him.

And the insatiable nature he could never match.

Laurent did have the mind to realise he had no returned praise that would not make him sound like a budding virgin even now, so instead, he gasped out a, “There,” as he bowed his head, pushed back against Damen as he quietly came undone for him this time.

The slow steady rocking of hips became something Laurent chased, and when Laurent hitched his leg up, Damen found that spot in him that made him gasp, chase the friction.

It was a soft-sounded undoing, with Laurent panting softly, biting his lip every so often as he pushed back against Damen, his toes curling, his back arched.

When he came, it was with a soft breath just edging on a moan - not the cries from before. He tumbled over the edge as opposed to being shoved over it, his hand tight on Damen’s wrist as he spilled again over Damen’s hand and onto the bed.

* * *

Damen really didn’t mind that all of their lovemaking until this evening had been slow. He did like a slower pace, and watching Laurent come undone like this was an experience Damen got to fully enjoy at this speed. He liked to have his hands on Laurent’s cock, to feel the twitch of pleasure in his palm when he hit the right spot.

He tried his best to speed up when he started hitting where Laurent wanted, but it was strenuous, and he welcomed the extra effort it took to give what he could.

It took time, but it was the building heat and lust that Damen basked in until he felt Laurent tense in his hand, and then began with quicker strokes to milk him through orgasm. Damen was following close behind, but he needed more. He gently pushed Laurent to his belly, then braced around him to thrust more forcefully into him, quick and needy. It only took a few before Damen was gasping out himself, spilling hot into his beloved.

“So good,” he breathed again, his sputtering as he bottomed out another rut. “I will never tire of it.”

His body was beyond exhausted now, but if Laurent had turned and asked him for another go right then, he would have found a way to do it.

He finished but didn’t pull out, and moved Laurent onto his side again, staying buried in him. He liked the overstimulation, and honestly needed it if they weren’t going to be fucking again. He knew Laurent was finished for the evening—they both were.

“I cannot wait to see the looks on their faces when we show our faces,” Damen panted with a grin. “I hope all of them heard us."

* * *

Laurent gripped the sheets as Damen handled them about, letting Damen take what he needed and letting it push the soft moans of overstimulation out of him. Damen finished not long after, leaving Laurent filled and breathless until he was rolled on his side again, his fingers laced with Damen’s, held to his heaving chest.

“I /know/ they all heard us,” Laurent breathed, bringing Damen’s hand to his lips to press small kisses of fondness on his knuckles. He could feel Damen softening inside of him, and Laurent knew there would soon be another mess on the bed. An attendant would be welcomed. “I am eager to see who is so bold as to mention it first.”

The Kemptian man, probably, who had been so bold as to approach Lord Lamen as an equal. Perhaps the man with the pet. Laurent could imagine a joke at the expense of the boy the man owned. They certainly had not heard /them/ this evening.

Laurent stayed silent for a moment thinking on it, but more than their comments, he found himself more intrigued by what Damen’s response might be.

“You began to pleasure me in front of them,” Laurent murmured slowly, his words slow with exhaustion, speaking as if he had only just realised what Damen had so boldly done. “You—“ Laurent’s laugh was a chuckle, for he did not have the energy for more than that. “You wrestle others without any clothes, you bare me and push your finger into me in front of the entire inn...”

And yet Damen was still so.../shy/.

* * *

Damen chuckled, touched by the fond way Laurent took his hand and kissed it. There was something unreserved about Laurent right now, and he loved it very much. They were the kind of happy, carefree couple Damen had always thought he would be with his presumed Queen. He had always assumed he would be able to have his queen as many times as he wanted during the day, making time between engagments, her schedule dependant on his.

Instead, he had something he hand’t expected but loved so much more.

“You were covered!” Damen protested, shocked at the idea that Laurent would think him so brazen as to pleasure Laurent in full view of others! “It was not as if I—“ he sputtered for a moment, trying to properly defend himself.

“It was part of the game, and even that was—I did not bare you like a true pet, I kept you covered with furs, I did /not—“

He huffed, his cheeks tuning red. What a ridiculous thing to say.

“I was as modest as I could be in the situation."

* * *

Laurent, in his exhaustive state, was beginning to actually laugh as Damen sputtered and tried to defend himself. Damen’s dark skin did nothing to hide his ruddy blush, and Laurent found it the most endearing thing in the world.

“I have been exposed this whole evening,” Laurent argued, and compared to his usual dress, he had been. “I am almost certain you have fashioned me in a child’s chiton, Damen.” In his exposure to Akielon culture, Laurent did realise he wore his chitons closer to the style of the young than those of Damen’s age. But Laurent would not change that until it was a necessity. He loved what he could do to Damen in his own country’s clothing.

“I cannot wait until the consummation of our union,” Laurent chuckled to himself, settling again. “It will be nice to see /you/ as virginal for once.”

* * *

“I had it made to my tastes, yes, but I am not Veretian. I do not want my lover to be made to look like a child,” Damen said. He would have proper chitons made for Laurent at some point, but not until al of the ones he had brought with him were ruined from their lovemaking. The way that hemline teased was something would never forget.

He was still burning from the accusation that he had pleasure Laurent on fully display! He absolutely had not. He’d left so much up to imagination.

“I dread that consummation,” Damen muttered, shifting his hips to still feel Laurent around him, even though he had softened and it was beyond overstimulating. “I don’t think I’ll be able to finish.” It as true, he didn’t think he’d be able to find completion with eye son him like that.

It’s not as if I can pretend I’m Lamen, and you Soren. It will be our wedding night!"

* * *

“It /will/ be, yes,” Laurent murmured with a grin, looking forward to the day more and more as time passed. He wished they had been wed months ago, but it was all quite bureaucratic in a way. They were doing so much wrong, it had proven to their value to do /something/ right. Properly regarding their own kingdoms was a wonderful start.

The day would be there soon enough. After this little competition back in Vere, after just a little longer of prepping their countries for the union, they would finally be wed. Their kingdoms would be united. Both Vere and Akielos would be at their strongest, as they had not been in decades.

And Laurent would have Damen. In the eyes of all. They would rule this one kingdom as equals. They would be together, the two of them having proven a wonderfully reckless and successful team.

“If the only trouble we have until our marriage is your ability to finish on the day of our union, I am certain we will handle it. We have overcome much worse under the scrutiny of the council.”

Like treason.

* * *

Damen had spent many days fucking in his life. Many nights, too. But Laurent just couldn’t satisfy him. Every time he slipped into a new chiton or wore a new jewel or grinned at Damen from across the tavern, it was a matter of minutes before Damen had him pressed to a wall, a chaise, or even set on top of a table. Lamen was quickly making a name for being a legendary lover, his beautiful pet Soren practically abused with pleasure. Some said it was to mark him up so that Damianos would not claim him at first sight.

Damen did plenty of claiming. Their bedchamber was a mess for the cleaning staff, who very much enjoyed the coin for cleaning and the coin for gossiping. Curtains were torn, bedsheets discarded, pillows emptied in a violent display of feathers, bookshelves and desks toppled.

The other guests in Lamen’s party also made a mess of their rooms, but they were not as interesting. Even when Pallas angrily left one morning, his lover laughing along behind him as they went off to hunt something. Lamen was supposed to go after it, but he remained otherwise occupied. So much so that no one even bothered trying to remind him of the hunt, with all of the noise coming from Lamen’s room.

“Fuck—“ Damen moaned, holding Laurent’s back to his chest where they sat by the fire. Maybe they hadn’t gone for seven hours straight, but Damen had made love to Laurent more times in the past few days than he’d had the chance to the entirety of their relationship before this. Currently he was busy making another foray into convincing his beloved to let him have what was just beyond the hem of his newest chiton. Laurent was in a wide straddle on his lap, his book discarded yet again into the furs by the fireplace. Damen had made it his goal to make sure Laurent got through as few pages as possible before they were fucking again.

“Once more,” Damen all but whined. “And perhaps once before we ride. Or at least allow me to pleasure you again before we ride.” He had lost any face of honor and dignity, reduced to a love-drunk, lust-driven adolescent in just a few days of fucking. “Please. I cannot be withheld from you."

* * *

Even as their men began to arrive, Laurent and Damen did not drop or shy away from the act they had come here with. If anything, in public, it gave them all the more opportunity to have fun, especially when they realised how they /inspired/ others with their own playful roles. Their closeness was bringing others closer together. Mostly because so many men wanted to fuck Laurent, but in their men, it was because they felt /free/ to enjoy their passions.

Those with passions aligning to what was acceptable in Vere.

When Lucien had first seen Laurent as Soren, he’d gasped aloud, had not found a way to react before Jord had pulled him along deeper into the inn, finding Lucien a place by the fire to keep him warmed from their much longer trip in the cold. Even as Damen nipped at Laurent’s jaw where they were laid on the fine chaise in the corner, he could see the way Lucien turned his eyes from his king to Jord, something so warm in his gaze, it melted Laurent’s heart.

Lazar kept his comments to himself about seeing both of his kings as they were, but he and Pallas were bedded near enough to Laurent and Damen that they could be heard laughing at night, enjoying each other’s company until the laughter turned to soft groans and grunts.

It made Laurent a little more mindful of his volume, but it did not ruin anything for their evenings.

He and Damen did not fuck as they had the first night, but they fucked so often, it seemed, that it did not matter. Laurent was just as boneless and sore as he had been. On the shelves downstairs, filled with abandoned books, Laurent had found a Kemptian book of sea tales that he wanted to take the time to read while he had it. Damen found other plans at every turn, and Laurent - surprisingly - fell into those plans /almost/ every time they arose. He only chose to read naked by the fireside for the day /once/, and he still ended up with Damen inside of him by nightfall.

Laurent welcomed it here, the coupling and the fucking. The more blank his mind, the more he could enjoy here, and Laurent was starting to find a rhythm to being in a relationship. He was truly beginning to understand what his feelings for Damen were, learning not to fear them.

But he would need weeks more to master that line of thought.

“/Damen/,” Laurent groaned, his blond hair stuck to his face from sweat, glowing like gold in the firelight. “We talked about /restraint/, did we not?”

They had talked about restraint/s/, right in front of Lucien at the dinner table the night before, leaving both the pet /and/ Jord to turn bright red.

It had been fun.

“I cannot take this book with me,” Laurent sighed in jest, extending his arm to grab hold of the book and pulling it back to him. His breathing was still heavy, his muscles still jumping under his skin. “If I do not finish it here, who will tell me how this siren tale finishes, hm?”

He needed a break. He could not even be certain of the state of his body, of how Damen had left him. He was not /so/ flexible.

* * *

“I would love to restrain you,” Damen purred, mouthing up Lauren’t bare shoulder blade. He knew tonight was the last night they would be together here, and he also knew he had to return to Akielos very soon. Much too soon. The thought of leaving Laurent when they had come so far was probably the worst thing Damen could imagine in this moment.

“You may attempt to read it while I fuck you,” Damen offered, nibbling at teh base of Laurent’s neck now. His neck was covered in marks, all beautiful to hom. He wore them so well, like jewelry. And his jewels…Damen had been very close to snapping off a few necklaces in their haste. He had not been distracted by any books about sirens.

He rubbed Laurent’s thighs, trying to ease him into allowing him one more round. They were both exhausted from it, but Damen was determined. He would be wishing for this in a matter of days.

“Lord Lamen will steal the book for you to read on the journey home,” Damen offered. “But I can assure you if you were my siren I would be lost to the sea. I can spin you a tale myself."

* * *

Oh, Damen and his pretty words. It amazed Laurent at how such a brute could be so poetic. He had not been raised to know that Akielos valued literature and prose, writing. Laurent had learned that it was rare among them, however. Other than Damen and Pallas, he had not heard many Akielons speak in any way other than plainly and bluntly. There were not many that would wax like this over someone, though Laurent should have known it was in their repertoire somewhere, after experiencing Akielon music for the first time.

Damen waffled from poetic and romantic to…well, the brute that Laurent loved him as. Between comparing Laurent to a siren and offering to restrain him, Laurent really got the best of Akielos in his beloved.

“The book is new here,” Laurent groaned, his thighs twitching form being held open by Damen’s body. He would have to climb off soon. He could already tell he would be uncomfortable atop Ven tomorrow. “It is the only one legible left on the shelves downstairs. I would not have anyone I knew take it.” There would be a weary traveller one day that would want to read it. Or perhaps one day Laurent would return to do so, on a day where he could venture again with a small party, relax in the commons of this small town.

“You could read it to me,” Laurent teased, turning the book to face Damen, honestly not knowing whether or not Damen could read or speak the language. The Kemptians did not have good or bad relations with Akielos, so Laurent had to wonder if they were on any sort of understanding of each other. “It might distract you while I give you your gift.”

Laurent had not forgotten.

* * *

Laurent and his books. As troublesome as this one had been, Damen was glad to see him taking time to enjoy reading, especially when he took that time while naked, lying on the furs by the hearth. Damen lay with him when he could, napping or writing letters to Nikandros about the things that had happened during his visit, and plans for when he returned to Ios. Wedding planning was still in full swing.

Damen examined the book’s cover, able to discern the title, but barely. He had been taught Kemptian to a degree that he could pass at conversation, but Akielos never dealt much with the country, so his once-sharp recollection of Kemptian grammar evaded him.

“I could read it,” he said, “but I would not understand much. And my accent might make it a different language entirely.”

He still did not want Laurent coming around him with those needles.

“I have a better idea,” he said. “Pleasure me until I am spent, then you may pierce me while I recover.” He shot Laurent a devilish grin, suddenly very set on the idea. He didn’t want to be thinking about anything other than pleasure when Laurent stuck him.

“Hands, mouth, your body—whichever method you most prefer. I simply ask that you are not stabbing me with needles while trembling from your own pleasure.”

Laurent was not going to escape his brutish side this time.

* * *

Laurent made a noise of frustration, followed by a curt, “Damianos!” as he clapped Damen right on the broad chest. He was pocked with marks from Laurent’s blunt nails there, from earlier activities together. “I will have no body left for you to pleasure yourself with. Do you understand that?”

But Laurent had not necessarily climbed from his lap just yet.

“This is ridiculous,” Laurent said aloud as he rolled his wrist about its socket, fingers somehow remaining delicate-looking as he did so. “I was promised an early birthday present, and I must continue to work for it? It’s cruel.”

But Laurent was not shying away.

Damen was still slick with oil from having only slid out of Laurent mere moments ago, and Laurent took that to his full advantage, his fingers wrapping measuredly around Damen’s length. They were easy to slide, up and down, too slow to give Damen any outright pleasure.

“There are men that would do anything I asked just to hear me say their name,” Laurent drew out, hand still moving leisurely over Damen’s cock, his eyes watching Damen’s every expression. “You were never one of them.”

* * *

As soon as Laurent started scolding him, Damen knew he had won. He wished he could grow tired of fucking him, but Damen had yet to find his limit. He simply could not get enough. Laurent was marked to a level that would be concerning if Damen didn’t have so many marks of his own. They had spent the past few days obsessed with each other, and their bodies made that very clear.

Damen arched with a gasp as Laurent gripped his cock, shuddering just a little when he began stroking. It wasn’t enough, and Laurent knew it. But it was still good, especially with him still feeling overstimulated.

He /liked/ when Laurent spoke this way, a man with power.

“You enjoy games,” Damen panted softly, a ghost of a grin on his lips. “I was not going to play into the hands of the Prince of Vere. And now, yes, I very much enjoy when you say my name. Particularly when you cry it out for everyone at this inn to hear."

* * *

Laurent rolled his eyes, kept going with his ghosting of a touch, before returning his eyes to Damen - specifically as he put some pressure behind his thumb and circled it around the head of Damen’s cock. He did not forget what Damen liked, even as he learned so many new things.

It took everything in his very composed body to not mention that, if anything, Damen had played right into his hands. Literally, anyway.

“There are moments,” Laurent started, tightening his grip around Damen and just /starting/ to give him something, “Where I still very much think of killing you.” He didn’t, of course, but he felt they had the right to joke about it now. It was not as if Damen was in a position to argue with him.

He worked him like that for a bit, eyes on him, knowing one more thing about Damen that he may never admit aloud. Damen, though never in life outside when it would have made Laurent’s life easier, did enjoy to see Laurent in control, enjoyed having control taken from him in a way that had to be forced from Laurent.

“But I think you are my favorite game,” Laurent grinned, starting to work his hand properly now, in a way he knew Damen would enjoy. “And I would not let myself lose you."

* * *

Laurent knew him better now than Damen had ever previously guessed. He was an eager, panting mess in a matter of moments, working his hips as best he could to gain friction. he laughed at mention of killing him, because just a few hours prior Laurent had been bubbling over with pleasure in bed with him, and before that they had been teasing and flirting in front of everyone in the inn.

Damen did willingly give up control. When he wasn’t king of Akielos, when he didn’t have his kingdom to rule, he always gave himself to Laurent. Giving away the burden was a relief for him/ During lovemaking, giving up control was an added pleasure, but having control was a different kind of pleasure.

“Fuck,” he breathed, tipping his head back as Laurent’s grip finally, finally tightened and his stroking brought out a moan.

“It is too easy for you to win,” Damen groaned. “You need only touch me this way and my every wall crumbles for you."

* * *

“I am aware,” Laurent said blandly, but his lips threatened a smile, his voice almost giving way to his pride. He had to give himself the moment every so often to show the world that, in a way no one - even himself - would have expected - he /had/ conquered the king of Akielos. He worked his hand faster, threatening an aching wrist, just to watch Damen’s face change under him—

And then he had to kiss him ever so briefly, just because, well, Damen was gorgeous and he couldn’t help himself.

The gold of his wrist cuff caught the light of the fire, reflecting warm light softly about. A man had commented on their choice of jewelry down in the commons of the inn. They questioned Damen for his wearing of it, understanding why Soren would wear one. Laurent had been eager to hear the answer, as it was a question he had been asked in his own life even to this day when he decided to take on the little symbol that had started as respect and turned into one of love later on.

Laurent knew Damen had the want to melt them down into rings, but Laurent was not so sure he would give it up so easily.

Was his mind wandering?

His hand had not stopped.

Good.

* * *

Damen wouldn’t usually be so taken by just a hand around his cock, but when Laurent was doing it—he couldn’t resist the pleasure. Something about the act of the King of Vere pleasuring him with his hand was beyond erotic to him. It was passionate and something adolescent—needy, almost. Laurent only ever teased him with his hands, Damen couldn’t recall ever finishing by his hand alone, but he was primed for it now.

The kiss was unexpected, but Damen responded in kind, deepening it even as he grunted with pleasure from the strokes of Laurent’s hand. He didn’t want to be pierced necessarily, but he didn’t mind it so much now.

“Laurent—“ He gasped, gritting his teeth slightly when it was clear Laurent expected him to finish. He didn’t even seem to be that focused, which was somehow more alluring to Damen. He rocked his hips as best he could, his thighs quivering with the effort to lift his hips and in turn lift Laurent.

He dropped his head to Laurent’s shoulder, panting harshly against him as he chased release. “More,” he urged, digging his fingers into Laurent’s hip, his flank, instinctively trying to pull Laurent to be flush against him even though he wasn’t inside him.

He groaned, rutting up into Laurent’s hand with the last of his strength he could muster. He fixed his teeth to Laurent’s shoulder, muffling his moan as he finally pushed over the edge.

His release wasn’t as forceful as usual—his body was as close to completely spent as he could ever remember being since meeting Laurent. Damen had needed this trip, he’d had so much tension in him he hadn’t realized until it was gone.

“Hurry and pierce me,” he panted, leaning back into the furs as he was milked through. Everything in him tingled with pleasure, but also with exhaustion. “Before I have the energy to convince you to try another round."

* * *

Laurent surely focused when Damen reaches the edge, spilled warm into his hand what little he had left to give. Laurent thought he might start to keep a tally of just all the Akielon kings he truly was doing away with. Perhaps his ancestors - the more recent ones - would be proud. He certainly found it humorous, as he hoped Damen did as well. Damen himself had done away with every continuation of Laurent’s bloodline that had been offered, and as that played directly into Laurent’s interest, he found it pleasing.

With a slow and methodical purposeful rhythm, Laurent milked Damen. He thought to lick the release from his hand, just to watch Damen squirm, but before Damen was given that opportunity of a sight, he gave Laurent an order that interested him /much/ more.

There was nothing slow or methodical about the way Laurent moved then. He managed grace, and he didn’t stumble or wince as he threw his long leg over Damen’s body to stand, to move across the room and grab what he needed. He only stopped to rinse his hands in the basin of water given to them before grabbing the little pouch off the bed and moving back towards Damen.

But then, he placed them down on the furs, threw his leg right back over Damen.

“I made a promise,” he murmured dutifully, and his hand once more found Damen’s cock, most likely working him to complete overstimulation, but the deal had been that Damen would be inside Laurent when he did this. Laurent did not like to break promises to his beloved, so…there he was.

“Come now, Damianos,” he chastised, knowing exactly what to do here. “It /was/ seven hours, was it not?”

Damen deserved to be as sore as Laurent would be tomorrow.

* * *

Damen was completely spent. It was he perfect time to be pierced, but instead Laurent had other ideas. Yes, Damen had made Laurent promise, but the thought of getting hard again seemed impossible. He winced when Laurent grabbed his cock, squirming just slightly as Laurent began to work him again. He had nothing left! They had been fucking for days now, and Damen could honestly say he was quite finished.

“Laurent,” he groaned. Yes, it had been seven hours. Seven hours, not three days! They had just fucked minutes ago—

Oh. Damen could feel himself responding, a stubborn desire stirring back up. His head remained fuzzy as Laurent continued on him, and it did take some time for him to harden up enough. The thought of Laurent warm and wet around him did help.

It wasn’t long before he was guiding his cock into Laurent, groaning softly. He did not think he had the energy to thrust even once more, but it was nice to just fill him, to feel Laurent’s body move around him.

“Quickly,” Damen growled. “Or else you may only pierce one."

* * *

Laurent did not foresee himself being able to sit properly for days, but it was a small price to pay for this intimacy with Damianos. Being filled by him once more was a little much, but Laurent found a great bit of pleasure in pushing Damen for one more round, for being able to harden him again.

The ride home would be unbearable.

He took a moment to adjust himself, folding over to kiss Damen deeply when they were once more joined, but then, it was on to the needles.

Laurent pulled the first from the bag, left the short golden bar of jewellery at arms length for when it was its time.

The first, he forced in easily, and he had to admit, he felt a pang of guilt. It surely could not be the worst pain Laurent had ever caused Damen, but it did not look pleasant.

Laurent leaned down, kissed Damen as he withdrew the needle and replaced it with the decorative bar. He held him in that kiss for a moment, silently trying to apologise, before he pulled away and looked down at his work.

It proved to be worth it.

“You would look ridiculous if I only pierced one,” Laurent commented quietly, drawing his hand over Damen’s unpierced nipple.

* * *

At least Laurent was sure of his movements. Damen expected hesitation, but there was none. The needle punctured his flesh and pierced clean through, and Damen couldn’t help but cry out with pain. It /hurt/. The pain was sharp and white hot, and unrelenting.

“Laurent,” he hissed, almost turning his face away from the kiss it hurt so bad. He couldn’t imagine enduring this again. He wanted to double over, but he was on his back, ad his cock was very much inside Laurent, but it was shriveling.

“Just do it,” he ended up snapping, though it had no weight. He wasn’t angry with Laurent, he wasn’t even angry at all, just in pain. The waiting was making him closer to something angry, though.

He gripped Laurent’s thighs.

“Please."

* * *

Laurent had to imagine that this was much worse than when the needle had been pushed through his ears in his adolescence, then. He’d seen Damen try to fight through a stab wound to his abdomen, so he had to imagine this was quite unpleasant.

He would not be volunteering to go next.

Laurent managed swift precision when he went in with the next needle, putting enough force into it to make it quick, working with deft hands to replace needle with jewellery, and when the act was done, he raised his hands into the air as if in surrender, indicating that it was done.

Damen was bleeding, but Laurent had to imagine now would not be the time to swipe that blood away.

It was finished, and Damen may not have been to keen on it but...Laurent had been correct. The piercings were quite fetching on his beloved and, honestly, the pain would pass. It was high time Laurent left him with a marking that could be considered beautiful.

* * *

Damen had been stabbed before. He’d been cut, speared, and knocked with arrows. He’d also been in the field, fueled by adrenaline and the thrill of the fight. Here had was overstimulated, exhausted, and his only focus was the continual pain in his nipple—an area already sensitive!

The second needle plunged into his skin and Damen hissed again, then let out a shout as the needle was pulled out and replaced with a bar. The piercing was different on his right, he wasn’t sure how but it /hurt/. Ears being pierced was a prick of pain and then done with, but not this.

Hot blood trickled down his side as he lay there with his teeth gritted. He couldn’t imagine what fresh pain would come with sitting up, and his nipples were already swelling, angry and puffy.

“I think it is obvious I won’t finish,” Damen chuckled after a long moment, his voice edged with pain. His cock was very much unresponsive at the moment. “But I do appreciate you keeping your promise."

* * *

Laurent had not expected Damen to finish - had rather been hoping he wouldn't. Laurent did not think he could take another bout. He would, were it initiated, and he would take it just as he had the past three days, but he would regret it later. This had turned out just fine - for him.

“I am nothing if not an honest man,” Laurent lied with a sympathetic smile, and this time, when he climbed off Damen, he returned with the dish of water, the cloth. He knelt down next to Damen, dipped the cloth into the water, and cleaned around the piercings, mindful of where he was swiping blood from. It wasnt unlike when Damen was recovering in Ios, when Laurent had cared for him, cleaned his wounds, was even wary of the Akielon physicians that came around.

“You will have to recover alone in Akielos if you leave me so soon,” Laurent mused to Damen, quite impressed with how even his work with. “Who will keep them clean for you, hm? Am I to expect you to care for yourself?”

Laurent couldn't - and wouldn’t - /stab/ Damen to keep him around, but perhaps these piercings were enough to make a point.

* * *

Damen was thankful Laurent didn’t try to torture him into finishing. He probably could have had he been forced, but it was relieving not to, and that was a first for Damen, His nipples still seared hot, and he was certain the bars now pierced through them were being melted by his own body heat. It hurt, and he whined when Laurent cleaned him, though the touch hurt as well as soothed.

“You’ve done this to torture me,” Damen groaned, tipping his head back. “I do not know how I am to sleep with this. Let alone put clothing over it.” A Veretian shirt sounded like some kind of actual torture.

He did like the extra attention Laurent was giving him though. And he also liked the way Laurent’s eyes kept wandering to his chest, like he was fascinated by it. Damen didn’t think Laurent had ever been so openly wanting over a part of his body.

“You like them?” he asked, trying to hide the pain in his voice. “Did your kind gift givers tell you when they will be safe to touch?"

* * *

“They did,” Laurent confirmed for Damen, daring to swipe just a bit closer to clear the drop of blood where Damen’s skin darkened around the pierced area. “And how will you ever know that day if you are in Ios, so far away from me?”

It seemed Damen would be lying on his back tonight, which did not bother Laurent. It was how he usually slept. What was different now was that Laurent would not be able to lie across him as he so usually did. He could not risk a swipe at Damen’s chest that would end up in a howl awakening them both. And Damen could not hold him from behind as he sometimes did, and Laurent could not do the same!

He had not fully thought about this.

But when the firelight glinted across the gold bars agin, well...Laurent smiled to himself, prideful.

They would find a way to sleep.

Just as Laurent would find a way to walk without disgracing himself.

For the first time in three days, Laurent tied his hair back with a long abandoned strip of leather, going from the allure of a soft pet to the...allure of a beautiful prince. Though both alluring, there was a defined line between the two. He also, perhaps much to Damen’s dismay, began to finally remove the jewels that had left little impressions in his skin, fearful of /anything/ tangling with Damen’s new piercings. There was a moment where that line was crossed, where Laurent’s regality of his long neck, his strong jaw, his posture mixed with the shine and bejewelled nature of a pet, but after the full few moments it took to remove all the decoration, he was...himself again.

He looked older with his hair tied back.

Tomorrow, on their way out, they would get to see Soren and Lamen once more before they had to return to their duties, but Laurent would always have what he’d done to Damen on this trip. He preferred it much to what reminder he had left himself on Damen’s body of his time in Arles.

“I do like them,” Laurent finally did tell Damen, his voice and smile soft as the glow of the fire as the night drew on. They had managed their spot in bed...many inches apart. It felt like a whole kingdom apart already. “I quite like them.”

* * *

“Don’t speak about me leaving,” Damen murmured, wincing as Laurent brought the cloth dangerously close to his inflamed skin. The pain did begin to ebb after a time, and he gingerly sat up, his body sore from several days of lovemaking. He couldn’t imagine returning home, but he knew it was inevitable. He wasn’t even sure when they would next see each other.

Lying in bed seemed cumbersome, and with the restriction of only lying on his back, he didn’t foresee a night of good sleep in his future. His chest hurt, and as they finally moved to bed he couldn’t stop feeling the throbbing. Had they not been at an inn, he would have asked for a physician. But no, they had to be common.

“I cannot sleep like this,” Damen moaned. He was very glad Laurent liked them, but he couldn’t enjoy that now. He wasn’t sure how he ever could with how much they hurt. Perhaps skin wasn’t ever supposed to heal there, or perhaps only healed on women.

“But at least I know how best to torture the next man who dares to think Soren is his to claim.”

It was not enough, but i it was something to dull it.

* * *

“Then you will have many opportunities,” Laurent murmured, eyes fond on Damen. He had such a fire in him, a passion Laurent felt for far fewer things. He admired it. Damen was not a torturer. Were he anything but a good man, he would have been the most fearsome king of them all. All the world was lucky he only used his passion and his rule for good. Truly.

Lying there, Laurent swiped the last of the blood from Damen’s chest with his thumb, not so much worried about it being there after. He wiped it on the sheets for, honestly, it was probably the least offensive thing to happen to them yet.

“They will heal,” Laurent promised Damen with a kiss to his bottommost rib, mindful. “And when they do, there will be even more to envy about the golden king of Akielos.”

Laurent tangled their legs when there was nothing left safe to tangle.

“I am sure the cold will help.” That bit was a joke, but Laurent could only smile at his own humour, no longer having the energy to laugh openly.

“Rest,” he finally ordered, patting Damen’s stomach fondly. He scratched his nails lightly over it a few times before resting his hand there, low, away from Damen’s chest. Just so he could touch him. “Try to, anyway. We are to be kings again soon enough.”

And then, Laurent smiled softly and added, “I will miss my dear Lord Lamen.”

* * *

Damen doubted many would be so charmed as Laurent thought. The pain was certainly not worth the supposed beauty. Damen could think of nothing but the endless throbbing. Even Laurent’s fond, affectionate touches weren’t succeeding in ebbing the pain. Even his exhaustion was doing little to combat it.

“And I will miss Soren,” Damen hummed, smoothing back Laurent’s hair. “As will my cock, I imagine.”

He could not be trusted to keep such a moment tender when he was in such discomfort. His whole body ached, but his damned nipples were searing. He could not imagine riding home tomorrow, not only because of this pain, but because of how sore he was going to be. Usually he rested many days after such a tryst.

“You will need to rest as well,” he murmured, smoothing his fingers through Laurent’s hair.

Sleep came begrudgingly. Damen never rested deeply, his body far too concerned with the thought of accidentally shifting and knocking his new piercings, or Laurent moving in his sleep and tugging one.

Dawn came far too early, and Damen was even more tired than he had been before bed. At least the pain had ebbed to a dull throbbing, not one so sharp. He was swollen though, and the thought of lacing up into a Veretian shirt was excruciating.

So he kept his eyes closed and pretended to sleep, hoping perhaps he could avoid leaving for another day.


	22. Part II: Fynn of Kempt (3.5.20)

The dawn came with a harsh truth: It was time to return to their actual lives. The reality of the day had Laurent up far earlier than he should have been, than he truly wouldn’t have been were it not for all he knew he had the responsibility to return to. Though he had wrapped himself in the guise of an Akielon slave, he was still very much the king of Vere, and Damen, that of Akielon. They no longer had the time or freedom sleep the day away.

“I saw you stir,” Laurent said to Damen from the end of the bed where he was working the pin into the shoulder of his chiton. He still had much to learn about wrapping himself in the dress of Akielos, but after a few tries, he had managed it much better than he had before. It was only when he felt secured that he began to move about again, padding about the room to stand by the fire, warming up from just the little while out of bed. It would be freezing outside.

He let his hair down, slid the fine earring Damen had gifted him back into his ear, shining crystalline glares around the fireplace. For the last foreseeable time, he would get to act as Soren.

It was actually quite nice. Even as they left here, Laurent would have a few moments of glorious absence - no responsibilities, no burdens to say farewell to whoever might be awake, no need to give gifts as he departed. There would be no cheering, now flowers, just...an exit. Jord and Lucien would gather their things once they were gone. A simple escape.

A quick escape.

/Too/ quick an escape.

Laurent was sore, but he knew Damen would be no better off. They had made bold decisions during their stay at this inn that they would both pay for.

When they had returned to Arles, they could briefly meet with the council and fall into bed again together, recover as they would both need to. Laurent looked forward to that.

“Damen,” Laurent chastised, moving onto the bed on one knee. “Awake or I will force you to do it.”

* * *

Damen was not in a place to take threats lightly. He let out a whine as he sat up, tempted to touch his new piercings just to see if they would hurt less. He doubted that would be the case, and as blood started running through him properly again he let out a groan. Wearing a shirt sounded horrific, but he could not wear a chiton and look so un-Veretian when Lamen was supposed to be visiting the king.

At least Laurent was beautiful to look at as Damen was transformed into Lord Lamen, first laced up in his pants, then boots, then undershirt before the jacket was laced on. He cursed throughout the lacing of that, and could not find a way to be comfortable. Any twist of his abdomen and he had searing pain in a place he wasn’t used to.

When he finally stood, he was locked in a grimace.

His body was sore all over, spent and exhausted, and they had not even begun the day of riding. The inn was barely stirring, many too full of drink to even think about starting the day. Damen wished he could join them.

“And what if I die on this journey?” Damen complained, fighting the urge once more to touch the throbbing piercings. “If I am so much as touched at the chest I may fall off Nikri to my death.”

Porridge was waiting for them downstairs, and Damen scooped another hot mouthful. He could already feel the cold seeping underneath the doors and in through the windows, and all he wanted was to be free of pain and to take Laurent back to bed to sleep properly.

“Surely there is some medicine I can have to ease this,” Damen hissed. “I cannot imagine riding a horse with my clothing rubbing me in such a way."

* * *

“You will deal with the discomfort as I will have to,” Laurent replied in Soren’s Akielon, and sure enough, he was sitting in such a way that most of his weight was on the side of his thigh, his legs curled up at his side on the open bench. They both had their pains to deal with. “You have dealt with worse.”

Jord and Lucien were the next to come down the stairs, and though they sat far away as if they all did not know each other, Laurent caught Lucien’s eye as they passed, before he could get too far away. Lucien was probably only looking over to see what his king was dressed in today, but his face and body language showed much more than that.

“Lucien and I will be feeling similarly today, it seems,” he murmured over a cup of boiled water before sipping it from the tankard. The warmth spread through his chest and only added to his knowing smile. It made him feel...like he’d done something right. Like he’d amended for something. He quite liked the feeling.

The last guests they crossed paths with were the man and his pet from their first day, up bright and early and, by the man’s map, headed off to Lys. Laurent could not imagine what anyone would do there. Perhaps he should have listened more to the man’s droning in their time there.

“I’d ask you one more time to sell him to me,” the man told Lamen, “But I know I’ve not the money for a pet like him. Perhaps you will alert me should he ever go back on the block.”

Laurent cheekily promised that they would, and even took the man’s name with a flirtatious little smile.

It was his last little hurrah of the trip.

* * *

The ride was miserable. Damianos had been on plenty of horrible rides in his life as a commander, prince, and heir, but he could not remember one so singularly agonizing. The cold made his piercings painful beyond measure, and his body was sore and trembling all over by the time they left town. No one even bothered to wave at them, and Damen guessed it might have something to do with the sour look on his face.

“I plan to sleep for days,” Damen growled. “We should have stayed another night. At least one more, to recover.” Technically, the night before was supposed to be their night of recovery, and yet he had spent himself into Laurent twice and been brought to a third release by his hand. He simply couldn’t help himself.

Now, he was wishing they would have showed some kind of restraint.

“And you should have pierced me in Arles,” he made sure to add bitterly. He was in a sour mood. The whipping wind and snow didn’t make things any better for his willingness to face the day.

He pushed Nikri to a faster trot, not wanting to waste any time returning home.

“And it gets colder here?” he finally said. “I do not know how you have survived this long!"

* * *

Laurent couldn’t help but be in a good mood as they rode, even if he wanted to just fall off her back the moment he had to put Ven into anything faster than a normal gait. He adjusted himself as necessary, kept his expression schooled in a way Damen could not.

Damen’s sour face had not reared its head in Laurent’s direction in some time. He had been in moods since his return to Arles, and understandably so, but this time, it was more aimed at Laurent than it had been since...well, since everything between them.

And knowing it was caused by two little pieces of jewellery? Laurent couldn’t help but smile right at Damen every time he complained.

“I would not give you further reason to hate Arles,” Laurent dismissed as they rode, wishing more than anything they would get out of this trotting nonsense. The bouncing wasn’t helping his body either.

“And as I see it, you are still the one in clothes.”

Laurent was still dressed as Soren, though he had no intentions of changing. Yes, his legs were chilled, but the thought of squeezing into clothes was not high in his priorities. He had walked around Sicyan naked. He could ride into Arles in the clothes of their new people.

“But soon,” Laurent went on, “We will back within the warmth of Arles’ walls, and it seems we will be for some time. You cannot let your men travel home in this.”

* * *

As much as Damen trusted Laurent’s judgement, he wasn’t sure he could heed it this time. They had to return to Ios, and staying longer meant a greater chance of a worse storm. In a few days, he would be headed back to Akielos, even if Laurent didn’t want him to go. He could not rule his kingdom from here, and being absent for too long right after harvest would be abandoning his own people as winter settled in.

It hadn’t occurred to him that they were dressed in different clothing than they had left in until Pallas rode from the path ahead, a boar wrapped in canvas and slung over the back of a pack horse. Pallas looked very much annoyed to be out in the cold.

“We have—“

“I don’t care,” Damen snapped, not bothering to hide his anger. “Claim the hunt for yourself, tell them Laurent and I decided to roam the countryside instead. I don’t care, but I am returning to our chambers at once.”

Pallas no longer looked angry, just confused. He looked at Laurent, over his chiton, and then back to Damen and his Veretian dress as though he’d just noticed it.

“As you wish, Exalted.” He hesitated, but then turned his horse and whistled. Moments later, Lazar appeared on his mare and headed to them.

“Your Majesty,” he greeted Laurent. “Exalted. Or should I greet you as Lamen and Soren?”

Pallas shot him a look.

* * *

Laurent let Damen go ahead on the path a bit, falling back to let him cool off and to give his own people some attention.

“‘Your Majesty’ will do,” Laurent replied easily, catching Pallas’ look of judgement. The Veretians has disrespected Laurent for quite some time. This coming from Lazar was nothing. “Lamen and Soren will be our secret.”

He was in a good mood - one that made Lazar raise his eyes suggestively at Pallas. Their king has been pleasured. Not that that had been a mystery. They had /heard/ him in his keep.

“Stay away from His Majesty of Akielos,” Laurent ordered to Lazar, who would in turn, pass it down the line of subordinates. “He will need his space this day.”

Laurent smiled to himself as he tapped his heels into Ven’s side, caught back up with Damen and continued their ride through the whipping wind.

“Really, Damianos,” Laurent said as they rode, speaking just above the whistle of the wind. “You are being ridiculous, you know.”

* * *

Damen couldn’t feel his chest. It was welcome relief from the pain of his piercings, but he knew it would return tenfold as soon as he got warm again. Cold put him in a foul mood, and being in pain /and/ cold made it far worse.

“You are not the one who had to sleep with his nipples freshly pierced,” Damen muttered petulantly. Not to mention his legs were sore, and all he had to look forward to was more snow and colder weather in Arles. He wouldn’t even be able to whisk Laurent into bed whenever he wanted like he could at the inn.

When they arrived at the gates, the city was humming. Everyone was rushing around, excited that the kings were returning. Crowds gathered at the gates, and Damen frowned when they thronged around them, shouting and cheering.

A moment later he sat up straighter in his saddle and smiled, wincing as the fabric pulled at his piercings.

The competition. Damen had forgotten that they would need to choose a winner tomorrow.

* * *

“And you are not the one that had to sleep with his arse freshly fucked open,” Laurent responded casually, and though the words were sharp on that tongue of his, he still managed a smile as the gates of Arles rose into the skyline before them.

Laurent straightened himself well before Damen, high browed to match his high hemline. The people, still growing used to the chitons worn by the Akielons, were shocked to see their king dressed in such, but no questions were asked.

Jord rode ahead and made a path through the crowd, giving Laurent and Damen safe passage all the way to the palace. In their wake was a sea of admiration, of shouted requests. The usual greeting of Vere.

Safe within the walls of Arles, the cold winter wind was lessened, but it would not be until they were by the hearth in Laurent’s room that Laurent felt he would be able to fully use his legs again.

“Your Majesty.” Jeurre was the councilman to greet them when they were led back inside. “Exalted.” He bowed, lifting his eyes right to Laurent's bared legs before standing once more, shaking off his shock to see—

King Damianos in Veretian clothing, looking as uncomfortable as the day he’d first been dressed in them.

“Your Majesty,” Jeurre started, but Laurent had already started towards his chambers, Jeurre in tow. “Your Majesty,” he tried again, but Laurent waved his hand.

“Later, Councillor,” Laurent chided, taking his sour husband-to-be’s hand. “We will not be bothered at this time. At dinner, we will hold conversation.”

* * *

Damen soured the moment they were inside the castle. His body was stiff, his eyes hurt, and his lips were so chapped that he was afraid smiling again would make them bleed. Thankfully Laurent handled Juerre, because Damen was ready to spit venom at anyone who dared to try to pull him away from his bed.

The warmth wasn’t even nice on his legs as they walked by braziers. Sure enough, his warming blood meant returning pain to his nipples, and the moment they were behind closed doors he let out a noise of pain. They /hurt/.

Damen was not patient. He pulled a knife from his trunk and promptly shredded the laces encasing his chest, then down his arms until the fine silk dropped to the floor in a heap. The breathing room did nothing for the annoying ache.

“I want to send for Leopold,” Damen hissed. ”There must be something to dull this. I do not care what it is."

* * *

Laurent often called Damen a barbarian fondly - but watching him cut the fine leather cording of his jacket just to get out of it was a little too barbaric. He sill smiled about it, almost laughed, but he was more intrigued than disapproving in that moment.

“Was that necessary?” Laurent asked, lifting his eyes from the heap of silk and up to Damen’s eyes. He paused his gaze on the way up to look at his work. Really, they looked fine. “Charls worked so hard on those.”

Laurent moved to stand by the fire, which was already roaring, having been prepped for their return. He turned himself slowly, still bundled in his fine cape - warm, for the most part. Comfortable. He quite liked being able to move so freely, knew that come the end of dinner, he would be well ready to fall into bed. He would have no issues sleeping tonight, especially when his council would still be so caught up in their presentations for tomorrow. He would have one more night. Just him and Damen.

To /rest/.

Laurent shook his head and gave a whistle - not unlike the one he used to call Ven.

At the call, a guard stepped in, standing tall at attention. Not Jord or Lazar. They were situating, as they should be.

“The Akielon physician,” Laurent ordered. “Fetch him."

* * *

Leopold was rather worried when he was summoned so quickly after the arrival of the kings. He hurried to their chambers and opened the door to find Damianos standing there looking deeply uncomfortable…with gold bars through his nipples, which were inflamed.

Well.

Damen scowled at Leopold as he entered, watching as he noticed what was hurting. “Surely you have something to dull the pain—it is insufferable.”

He could see the doubt in Leopold’s eyes about that, but luckily nothing was said. “When were you pierced?”

“Last night,” Damen replied, glaring at Laurent. There was no heat to his gaze, he was simply angry at the persistent pain.

Leopold sighed. "I will fetch what I need.” He turned to Laurent. “And you, Your Majesty? Anything that requires my attention?"

* * *

Laurent stepped aside for Leopold to address Damen’s ‘injuries,’ taking a seat on the ledge by the hearth. He took up a pose that suggested he was amused and enjoying this, one leg crossed over the other, leaning back on his hands while Leopold saw to his poor, poor brute.

Leopold didn’t seem to worried about the piercings, which made Laurent enjoy this even more. To know he had done it right was a relief, and knowing that his good, beautiful husband-to-be could be more undone by two piercings than being stabbed in the stomach was amusing. Laurent could barely hide his sly little smile.

He would have felt guilty if Damen were actually injured. He would have!

“I am perfectly alright,” Laurent assured the physician, hand raised to dismiss him. Laurent’s amusement could almost be detected in his tone were it not for his habit of hiding himself from his people. “But I am /fascinated/ to see what you bring for him.”

Laurent did not know much of Akielon medicine, of their salves and tonics. Paschal would have made the pasty tonic to soothe the pain, but it would not do much. He wondered if the Akielon had something better.

“Do you think,” Laurent started as Leopold exited the room, “that all your men respond like this to when they are first pierced?”

* * *

“They are not pierced /here/,” Damen growled. He could see Laurent was enjoying this all too much. He certainly might have seen it as funny if it were the other way around, but that was not the case. He was very much in pain, an incessant, annoying pain that only served to make him angry and uncomfortable. “I cannot lie down, I have to fear garments, and I do not know what pain awaits me if I were to snag one of these on something.”

He chewed his bottom lip, trying to quell his anger. At least Laurent didn’t seem upset by his snapping. That would probably only make him more angry.

Leopold returned with something that looked like honey, and had the consistency of it. He motioned for Damen to recline, then drizzled the syrup over the piercings. The effect was immediate, and Damen let out a sigh of relief as the burning and itching subsided immediately, replaced with a pleasant cooling, then numbness.

“It will last you until it is time to rest, then I can apply more,” Leopold said, capping the vial. “The swelling will reduce in a day or so, and so long as I look after you, it will not be so painful. Though I do wish a physician were present in the event that anything had gone wrong. Even small piercings can lead to rot.”

Damen shot Laurent a glare.

* * *

Laurent watched from where he sat, eyeing the mixture with great interest. It was not thick and chalky as Paschal’s salves were, but something almost clear, with a golden tone Laurent could not place from a Veretian plant. He would like to study it more closely, but it seemed - as long as Damen stayed - there would be plenty of opportunities to do so.

“He was pierced by a trustworthy man,” Laurent assured Leopold simply, turning his body as the fire began to roast his bared skin. “There will be no rot in him.”

Laurent could not remember when Damen had last looked at him like that.

He chuckled to himself before turning against the fire again.

“Consider it a returned favour,” Laurent did tease Damen after a moment, not going much more into that with Leopold around. He was sure there had been talk of what they had done, himself and Damen, while they were away. He would not give the Akielon physician a rumour to spread.

* * *

Now that the worst of the pain was gone, the weight of Damen’s exhaustion was crushing. He had been awake most of the night fearful that he would snag his piercings in his sleep, so it hadn’t been easy to rest. Not to mention Laurent sleeping on him meant that he had also been worried about Laurent laying on top of them of otherwise disturbing them.

“Returned favor,” Damen muttered, looking down at his chest. He supposed the piercings were rather nice looking, but he didn’t think they were worth the pain they caused. If Laurent liked them, though, he supposed _perhaps_ that would be worth it. A bit of gold for Laurent’s attraction? 

Leopold had trouble hiding a look of amusement as he carefully inspected the piercings, then he straightened. “As I am sure you are aware, you should not catch them on clothing or other things that may snag them. That would not only be painful, but could tear the skin.”

Damen paled.

“Unless you require my assistance for anything else, I will see you both at dinner.”

He bowed his head to each king, then departed.

“I think you mean to kill me,” Damen groaned, closing his eyes. “I should like to pierce your nipples and see how full of favors you feel."

* * *

Laurent nodded at Leopold for his help, grateful. The man put up with a lot, and would only be forced to put up with /more/ as Damen and Laurent’s union moved forward. It was not as if Laurent planned on stabbing any more rods into Damen’s body any time soon, but one could never be too careful.

“I see you admiring them,” Laurent smirked, leaning back on his hands, mindful of the fire behind him. He was still dressed in his Akielon best, so the chill was crawling up his skin - something that would not happen in his Veretian clothing. He would stay dressed like this, he thought, even for dinner. He might as well make a statement as a king after being away for some time.

“They would look terrible on me,” Laurent dismissed easily, uncrossing his legs and opening his arms to Damen to pull him in - carefully - to him. He was not so sure Damen would even come to him now. He would not blame him. “It is much more fitting against your skin. I would look like a decorated whore.”

As he had. Their entire trip away.

* * *

Damen moved gingerly into the embrace, also trying not to stain Laurent’s chiton with the salve. Dinner felt eons away, and Damen desperately needed to close his eyes and rest for even a few minutes. Otherwise he would be a nightmare when confronted with even the slightest of issues.

“You look very good as a decorated whore,” Damen teased, kissing the crown of Laurent’s head. “I prefer you a decorated king, but a whore will work just fine for me.”

He smiled, then reclined once more into the furs. Perhaps these piercings were not so bad after all.

“Will you rest with me?” he asked, his voice laden with his exhaustion. “Surely we can wait until dinner to be kings again."

* * *

Laurent wrapped his arms around Damen’s middle, mindful of his chest and where he rested his head against Damen’s body.

He let out a laugh at Damen’s comment, having learned first-hand that Damen would love him just as much as a whore as he loved Laurent as a king. As silly as it sounded, it was a testament to the fact that Damen was not just here to take Arles in some long-standing scheme.

Not that Laurent actually expected that of him. It would have been a fantastic strategy, though.

“Do you think dining will be so exhausting?” Laurent teased as he stood, not denying Damen’s request. He seemed in a better mood, and Laurent took no issue in keeping him that way. “I think you prepare better for dinner than you do for battle."

* * *

Dining would certainly be exhausting. Damen knew the importance of this meal—everyone would be looking for new on where the kings had gone. It was probably obvious they hadn’t been on a hunting trip, especially with Pallas returning with a boar that Damen or Laurent supposedly had hunted. No king would ever allow someone else to claim their kill, and neither Damen nor Laurent were the type to claim a kill from another.

The rest was welcome, and much needed. Damen finally truly slept, and when he woke again it was to the sound of servants shuffling in, preparing their things for dinner. Damen was thankful they had set out a chiton for him, because he had no intention of donning a Veretian shirt again while his piercings were still so fresh.

Leopold applied a second salve, pleased with the decrease in swelling from the first application.

Damen dressed and put on his crown, feeling in much better spirits. The palace seemed abuzz, even the servants were whispering excitedly amongst each other. The competition had truly inspired something in the kingdom.

He extended a hand to Laurent, and they made their way toward the great hall. A great many eyes were on Laurent.

“It seems your absence has been noticed,” Damen praised. “One competition and now the kingdom is thriving even in this cold."

* * *

Laurent did not sleep, having had plenty of that in their time away from Arles. He did lay with Damen though, as he rested from his strenuous adventure alongside Soren. Damen deserved the rest.

When the servants came, they offered Laurent his usual Veretian clothing, but he denied it, and instead ordered one of the chitons Damen had commissioned for him. This union that the competition had created would only be well-served with the King of Arles making way for change - with a very comfortable chiton. At an appropriate length. Laurent’s crown did not exactly match the aesthetic, so he went for his circlet. There was no questions as to who he was, so there was no need for the full crown.

“Would you look at that,” Laurent praised, delicately placing his hands between the depressed line that shot down Damen’s chest. He remained mindful of where he put his hand, smiling down at his handiwork. As expected, with the minimal clothing that Akielons wore, they stood out beautifully.

Laurent’s grin was absolutely devilish until his hand fell away, and he smartened his chiton, ready to face the people.

And face them he did.

There was a thrum about Arles that Laurent had not seen in some time. Excitement - the lot of it, buzzing about the towers, the halls. It was the most /alive/ Laurent had seen Arles since…well, since Lord Torveld’s visit. The party, the slaves, the intrigue…

“They have not noticed my absence,” Laurent dismissed easily, walking in time with Damen towards the dining hall. “They are merely noticing my choice of attire. Do not give me so much credit."

* * *

“You attire only adds to it,” Damen purred. Once again he was tempted by that chiton, the short hem and the way it teased even as Laurent walked in his own palace. Yes, people were staring, and Damen soaked it all in as they entered the great hall.

Silence swept over the crowd at once, and the absoluteness of it was almost frightening. Damen squeezed Laurent’s hand, more than ready to reach for the dagger in his boot if they had somehow walked into an ambush.

Instead, he saw a man sitting as the guest of honor who rose to meet them, bowing respectfully with such grace that it made Laurent look clumsy. His jaw was broad, sharp, and strikingly beautiful, with skin so glowing it made Damen feel immediate discomfort. He was also clearly a man of great strength, his muscle snug against his shirt that looked similar to Veretian, but his jacket was Kempt. Black velvet inlaid with gold thread, with a silk shirt that had buttons up the middle instead of lacing.

The man rose, and as they drew closer Damen found himself intimidated. Laurent’s hair was a golden crown on his head, this man’s was worried gold, dark at the root but shimmering everywhere else. His eyes were the same navy blue as the sea in summer, his lips full and pink, framed perfectly by that damned jaw.

When he smiled, the world burned.

“His Grace, Herzog of Kempt,” a herald announced.

“You Majesty,” the man said, and Damen cursed inwardly. He sounded as handsome as he looked. He dipped his head to Laurent, then to Damen. “Exalted.”

The duke’s smile continued, only for Laurent. And now a laugh. “Do you not remember me, Laurent? It’s Fynn.”

Damen blinked. The man’s accent was so thick that he could only understand some of the words.

“What is he saying?” Damen asked in Akielon. “Who is he?”

The man’s smile turned to Damen now, but it became closed-lipped.

“I am Fynn,” the man said in accented Akielon, but his grammar was flawless. His voice lowered. “And I am sorry to say it for your sake, but I have come to court your betrothed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next week we'll be continuing in a new fic to break things up a little easier (same series, so it'll be easy to find!). Thanks for joining us on the journey thus far!


End file.
